Little Hell
by lellabeth
Summary: Bella is engaged to Jacob when she meets Edward, a cold ex-con who strides into her diner one night and flips her world upside down. She desperately tries to fight her growing feelings for him, until a secret is revealed which threatens to tear her life apart. Can two broken people overcome the bad in their pasts and find the good in their future? AH, Bikerward.
1. Prologue

**A/N: I own nothing, unfortunately. This will be a mini-fic with hopefully frequent updates. Title comes from the song by City and Colour.**

** Thanks to DD for all her help and support.**

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I had always believed there was only the type of love spoken of in fairy tales.

The all-encompassing passionate love that manifests in sparks when you touch and butterflies when you kiss. There are centuries old tales about finding your soul mate, your one who has been carved by God, contrived from flesh and blood and skin for you alone. One look and your world will shift on its axis until the gravitational pull holding you steadfast to the Earth is coming only from them. Their mere presence renders you a phoenix rising from the ashes, born anew under their fiery gaze. Your heart beats a tattoo of their name so fervently you swear you can feel the reverberations from your ribcage and because you are so finely matched, they feel it all too. Fate does not set up love only for it to be unrequited; Cupid does not shoot his arrow directly at one and miles wide of the other. It is a love that leads to marriage, to children, to elderly couples clasping hands because it is meant to be. It's right and true and you feel it all the way down to the soles of your feet.

There is another love, though, a love borne from the need for a companion. It's a bond that's been nurtured, that tells of late night phone calls spent thinking of conversation starters and tentative physical advances hoping the attraction overpowers the awkwardness. It's a love defined by 'I love you, but I'm not in love with you' and for some that's enough. The bone-deep ache for a connection, for someone to know you is such that you take the affection where it comes. You've spent so long being lonely that the attention being paid to you is flattering; it overwhelms until you're consumed. It's a love you've worked for, a love you've tried so hard to succeed at because everything tells you to pursue it. Love cannot be forced or fabricated and yet you try, ending up so exhausted no amount of sleep could cure it. You try until it is the knot in your stomach, the perpetual lump in your throat or the ache radiating from around your solar plexus. It's stiflingly, suffocatingly wrong, festering in your gut until it works its way back up your oesophagus and burns a hole in your throat, swelling your tongue until the words you'd never planned to say are firmly trapped there. You find common ground and cling to it like a life raft; convincing yourself love would be boring if two people were the same and soaking up Cosmo when it tells you opposites attract until it is a living, breathing force inside you. You chastise yourself for expecting too much, letting your delusions of grandeur and dreams of perfect matches impede too much on your real life. You convince yourself it's not settling if you're content with the arrangement because what's so wrong about believing someone when they say they love you?

The truth is that each of these loves can and do happen. I just didn't expect I would experience both at the same time with two different men.


	2. Chapter 1

**A/N: I own nothing except 6 pre-written chapters and copious amounts of Robporn. ****Thanks go to both DD and Astro for their endless support.**

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** Chapter 1**

I was 19 and engaged when I met Edward Cullen.

He rode past the diner I worked at on his beat-up Harley every day, black leather jacket gleaming in the unseasonably sunny weather. The first thing I noticed when his bike roared past was that he wasn't wearing a helmet; the second, his wild brown hair that stuck up in tufts at the front and made me thank the Lord he didn't wear one. He was here working construction on a new multiplex being built just outside town, the amount of handsome men it'd bought to Port Angeles had been the topic of the other waitresses tittering this week. I hadn't seen many of them myself, only the ones that'd come into the diner and now him. I liked to watch him ride past every day, though, my shoulders relaxing slightly whenever I heard the growl of his bike on the road. He sat tall and proud on it, lithely moving his body in turn with the bike until it was hard to tell where one stopped and the other began.

I'd just finished serving coffee to the few stragglers left from the dinner time rush when he first walked in, moving towards a table at the back. I wiped my hands on my waitress' apron and made my way over, feeling inexplicably tense. He looked up as I made my way over and I had to school my face so my reaction didn't show. His glorious hair was even crazier up close, blown every which way from the wind. He had pale skin and dark stubble, bushy eyebrows framing teal coloured eyes; high cheekbones and a strong jaw. What struck me most though, was the thick, puckered scar beginning midway down his left cheek, slithering over his jaw and ending at the base of his neck, slipping into a tattoo of barbed wire that stretched under his t-shirt. Even with it, he was a beautiful looking man and there were tingles in my stomach and a shiver down my spine to prove it. I followed the mark back up to find him staring at me, eyebrows raised. I cleared my dry throat, ready to apologise for staring when he spoke.

"Its fine, everyone looks at it. Can I get a burger and fries with a Coke?"

"Of course. I really am sorry; I didn't mean to be so rude. I'll be back with your drink in a minute," I gave an apologetic smile and walked behind the counter, cursing myself for being so insensitive –it was natural he would assume I was looking at the scar. I tried to ignore my shaking hands as I put his order through to the kitchen and got his drink ready, bringing it back over to his table.

"So… you're working on the Newton construction?" I asked, hoping to ease some of the tension that remained from my staring episode.

"Uh, yeah. Should be here a few months while it's being done," he replied, taking a sip of his drink and turning to look at the darkness outside the diner window.

I was clearly dismissed. I walked over to a recently emptied table and began cleaning it, removing the plates and carrying them over to the kitchen. Walking back, I caught his eye in the window before he looked away but I shrug it off and carry on trying to scrub dried ketchup from the table.

When crazy-hair's food is ready, I drop it by the table and tell him to enjoy. He's the only person left in the diner so I took the opportunity to lay out some new glasses, singing along to the radio as I did so. I heard a choked noise from across the room and looked up to see crazy-hair staring straight at me, amused grin in place.

"You like Incubus, I take it?"

"Sure, I guess. Is my singing bothering you? I'll stop," I shot him a bashful smile. I knew I was awful at singing, Jake had told me so a million times amidst winces.

"No, you carry on. Always nice to have a soundtrack with my meal," he winked as he said it, turning back to his food. I resumed my humming and singing along to the now Led Zeppelin song, trying to resist the urge to do some air guitar. I wasn't bothered by singing in front of crazy-hair but I'm not sure he'd appreciate a full on concert.

"Where does someone like you hear Zeppelin? You're what, 18? They're decades before your time, surely," my only customer said, causing me to turn around and see him smirking at me. I was confused as to why he was being so chatty when he was stand-offish at best earlier, but I decided to answer anyway.

"I'm 19. My dad used to play them a lot when I was younger; I grew up listening to this type of music. I wanted to learn guitar for the longest time because of it," I say, not being able to stop the smile that appears at thoughts of my straight-laced Dad listening to rock music. He would sit in his chair next to the TV, beer in hand and play whatever new rock record he had while I asked about the band. As a young girl never having been out of Forks, the stories he would tell me kept me captivated imagining the wide world beyond our small town.

"And did you?" crazy-hair asks, drawing my attention from fond memories and back to the artificial lights of the diner, "Learn to play guitar?"

I try desperately to stop my face from falling but it's impossible. Charlie never teaching me to play guitar may seem like an inconsequential thing to most people, but to me it's another example of all I lost when he died. I lost not only my father but all the opportunities I had to learn from him, to become the type of person he was. He was never exotic like my mother, never pursuing the most exciting option, but he was dependable and the keystone of my childhood. He was a gruff and imposing man - it came with the job of being Chief of Police – but the Charlie I knew was warm and loving and kind, the type of man who indulges his daughter's desire to know every last detail about a British rock band who's glory days pre-dated her birth. Anything reminding me of the desperate, desolate period I went through after his death never fails to bring this type of reaction. It's like an open wound, a gaping cavity in my chest. It's still raw after all these years and thinking of everything we missed doing is like rubbing salt onto sunburned skin. I clear my throat and try to form an answer while I look at crazy-hair. His expression is puzzled but his eyes widen when I raise my face to his and he begins to apologise.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to upset you…" he trails off, probably wondering how soon he can get away from the staring, silent freak in front of him. I shake my head and try to smile in response, stepping forward to collect his now empty plate. He grasps my wrist lightly as I reach out to take it, his hand warm and rough against the smooth skin. I look up at him in confusion.

"Are you sure you're okay…" he asks, pausing at the end in an unspoken request for my name.

"Bella. I'm fine, I'm sorry for acting so weird. It's just, my father died before he could teach me how to play. It's a sensitive topic I guess. You couldn't have known." I smile at his concern and pick up his plate before asking if he wants anything else.

"No, I'm all done. Sorry again, Bella," he strokes my wrist once before letting it go. I take his plate back to the kitchen, taking a few minutes to pull myself together. I wipe away the couple of tears that have fallen over and walk back out.

The diner sits completely empty, silent and still except the soft murmuring of the radio host in the background. I go to collect the money from crazy-hair's table and catch sight of writing on a napkin next to the bills. A sob leaves me before I've even finished reading. He knew how much this would mean, knew I would automatically think of Charlie. I sit down in the booth and clutch the napkin as cries bubble in my throat.

'_Within the glow that weaves a cloak of delight __  
__There moves a thread that has no end'_

_I hope you learn to play sometime soon, Bella._

_- Edward_

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**So.. thoughts?**_  
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**The lyric Edward leaves for Bella is from my favourite Led Zeppelin song, All of My Love.**


	3. Chapter 2

**A/N: I wish I owned Twilight so I could've met Rob, but it wasn't to be. This is best read on the 1/2 width setting.**

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Chapter 2

I was still feeling subdued by the time I made it home that evening. I said a quick hi to Billy then went back to find Jake, needing some comfort after my unexpected reminder of Charlie earlier on. I found him lying on the bed watching TV, though he had the courtesy to at least turn toward me as I came in.

"Hi, babe. You're running late," he stated, flicking through channels relentlessly.

"Yeah, I had kind of a hard day. I got reminded of Charlie and you know how I get whenever that happens. I was thinking, I might learn guitar. Charlie always said he'd teach me," I offered, biting my lip. Jake and I rarely talk about Charlie - it's not something that ever comes up seeing as he and Billy, Jake's dad, were really close. I learned I was upsetting more than I was healing whenever I mentioned him so eventually I just stopped.

"Guitar? Why? You gonna start up a band with the waitresses from the diner?" Jake snorts as he says it, snickering to himself and shaking his head.

"No, Jake, I just think it might be nice to do it in Charlie's memory you know? Like... something we were meant to do together that I can still do," I try to explain but I'm not sure it's coming out right. Truthfully until Edward wrote that note this evening, learning to play the guitar now hadn't crossed my mind. It was always one of the things I missed out on due to Charlie's death, I'd never considered taking some of that power back and learning now.

"I guess I just don't see the point, Bell. I hate all that rock music you guys used to listen to, listening to you stumble your way through it on guitar would be even worse. Oh shit, you weren't going to sing were you?" He flashes me a smile, all white teeth and dimples, but I'm not laughing. There's a sick feeling in my stomach wondering how this man – my fiancé – can be so ignorant to my motivations while Edward – someone I've never met before – spoke to me for 5 minutes before suggesting it. I decide to take a shower and go to bed, ready for this day to be over.

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I was 12 when Charlie was shot while responding to a call. I was in school and got called to the principal's office, everyone in class making jokes about the trouble I must be in. I got to the office only to see Deputy Mark there, red-eyed with slumped shoulders. I barely remember how he told me but the combination of 'Charlie' and 'dead' rendered me speechless. I dropped my backpack and fell into the wall behind me, desperate for some kind of support, something to hold me up because my legs suddenly couldn't. I sat in silence while Mark talked about calling my mother to come and look after me. I think that was when I realised things would never be the same – I hadn't seen Renee since I was 6 and she got my Dad to bring me up to Seattle. My heart clenched at the same time my stomach did, my chest wrapped in a vice constricting around my lungs and stealing my breath. I wanted to cry but couldn't find the air to do so, instead wheezing in and out while Mark flitted around me and tried to decide which comforting touch would best help ease the pain of losing the only parent I'd ever had. I splayed my hands on the worn linoleum and rocked my body back and forth, trying to shake off the bursts of white shooting across my vision and making my head pound. It was only when Mark finally placed a hand on my shoulder that I breathed in, exhaling it back out as a shrill scream.

Renee, unprepared for looking after a child, asked Charlie's best friend to look after me temporarily until she got on her feet. It never happened, I've been with him since Charlie died. When I first moved in Jake was a source of comfort – always keeping me distracted and pretending not to hear when I cried. It wasn't until we were 15 that things changed. Jake and I were down on La Push beach when he grabbed hold of my arms and kissed me. It was sloppy and all round horrible, but Jake's smile afterwards made me forget the need to wipe my mouth. We fell into a relationship, never having gone on a date or made anything official. It was more a case of one day we were just a couple and that was that. I loved Jake, I still love Jake, but the older I get the more I wonder if I love him enough. He's always been good to me but I'd be lying if I said he makes my heart race or gives me shivers or any of the clichés you read about.

There's a part of me, though, that feels tied to Jake. He's known me for so long and has seen me through so much that I don't know if I could ever turn my back on him. I said yes when he asked me to marry him a year ago more out of feeling I should than feeling it was right, though thinking I accepted out of gratitude alone wouldn't be fair either. Jake is just what I've always known since I was old enough to think about boys that way – he's here and he's safe. I often wonder if Charlie hadn't died, if Jake and I hadn't been pushed together by a cruel twist of fate whether we'd be in the same position now but then I feel so horribly guilty for feeling that way. Jake gives me what he can when he can and I should respect and cherish him for doing so, yet instead I compare him to men I've spent minutes in a diner with because they take a pot luck shot at making me feel better.

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When I step out of the steamy bathroom over an hour later Jake's still sat on the bed watching TV, though he's now covered my side with bottles of beer and a huge bowl of popcorn. I move to the side of the room to get dressed, not bothering to hide my nakedness. Jake takes a cursory glance but ends up turning back to the TV. I pull on some flannel pyjamas out of embarrassment at my attempt to engage him and walk back over to the bed, moving his beer bottles to the bedside table and his popcorn to the floor. He sighs and switches off the TV, slouching down in the bed to face me. He never usually comes to bed at the same time as me so maybe my undressed state did affect him more than he lets on. I feel a pang of guilt at my earlier harsh thoughts and move forward to kiss him… until he turns his face so I end up with my lips awkwardly splayed against his cheek and moves back to kiss my forehead.

"Gonna go finish watching my show in the living room. Get some rest, you look tired," he says, flicking off the lamp as he moves off the bed and shuffles out to the living room, closing our door behind him and leaving me staring at a dark wall in a dark room.

It's only when I wake up the next morning alone and to a cold other half of the bed that I allow the tears that I've been holding back to fall.

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**A/N: So... Jake's not gonna be too popular, huh? Next chapter should be in up in 3 days time.**


	4. Chapter 3

**A/N: I still own nothing. Again, best read on 1/2 width setting.**

**I've updated my profile with links to pictures of Rob I've claimed as Bikerward and 2 banners for the story so feel free to check those out if that's your kind of thing!**

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_How do I end up this way?  
A constant knot in my gut, tied with uncertainty and with lust  
A classic case I suppose  
A haunted man who can't out run his ghosts  
They're in my skin and my bones_

Constant Knot - City and Colour

It's about a month later that I look up from wiping a counter to see Edward strolling into the diner. Since the first time he was here, the 'note visit' as I've termed it, he eats here a few times a week, ordering the same burger and fries without looking at the menu to see what else we have. Sometimes, when it's slow and I have only my thoughts to occupy me, I imagine his steadfast order is a microcosm of his life outside the gaudy diner – that he sticks to what he knows rather than looking for other options, refusing to see if anything appeals more. We've formed a friendship, I like to think, though it's tentative. I sometimes join him when there are no other customers and we discuss his job or the perpetual rain; never anything overly personal or serious. The only things I really know about him are that he's 24, came here from Seattle for the construction work and can't cook to save his life. There's an undeniable pull that I feel toward Edward, one I've never experienced before. Sometimes I'll catch myself staring at him from wherever I am in the diner, my eyes seeming to find his bulky form of their own accord. It leaves a sour taste in my mouth every time – I have Jake. I love Jake, despite his less than attentive behaviour lately.

Edward's attractive, more attractive than I've seen a man be outside of magazines or films, with his uniform of leather jacket and tight jeans, wild hair and black Docs. He's only taken off the jacket once, revealing a grey long sleeved t-shirt and the biceps of a man who builds things for a living. Aside from his appearance, there's no denying the calm that surrounds me like warm bathwater or the paradoxical racing of my heart when he's near; the butterfly farm that seems to have settled itself slightly to the left of my navel in his presence makes itself known whenever I first see him. It makes me feel sick to think of how something that feels so right can be so wrong – because that's what it is, my obsessing over him, it's wrong. It feels like my head is waging a war against my body, that with every visceral reaction I have toward Edward it just makes my brain fight harder. I close my eyes and rest my head against the coffee machine to stop it from pounding.

"Everything okay, Bella?" I hear Edward's voice from across the counter and sure enough, as soon as I open my eyes he's in front of me with his eyebrows furrowed, tight lines around his eyes.

"Hi, Edward. Everything's fine, if you take a seat I'll be over in a minute," I reply, trying to look at his face without letting it affect me – and failing. Mercifully, he does what I suggested and takes a seat a few feet away. I use the time it takes for his order to be ready to finish up my other tables and gain back the sensibilities I lose in Edward's presence.

When I take over his order, he invites me to sit with him. I slump into the booth, groaning as my sore back muscles hit the soft cushion.

"Hard day?" Edward asks, soft smile in place even with French fries in his closed mouth. Even the way the man eats can turn me on. You know you're far gone when you're aroused by someone's table manners. I breathe deep and focus on his question rather than the way his hands wrap around his burger.

"The usual. Standing on your feet for 12 hours a day will make anyone sore and miserable, I'm sure you know what it's like, working construction is even worse," I reply, cracking my neck. Edward winces.

"Construction's fuckin' hard on the body, but at least we're only out there 8 hours with these new union rules. 12 would kill me off," he offers, though we both know he's being kind. Being a waitress is tiring but Edward's building a freakin' multiplex - I think carrying wooden frames and laying brick all day trump carrying plates and laying down fresh napkins, though I appreciate his effort.

"I bet you wouldn't be so tired if you'd start going to culinary school full time," Edward jokes, winking at me when I look up at him. I've told Edward about my desire to train in culinary arts one day – I decided when I was 8 after watching some cookery show; Charlie came home that weekend with a mini-apron and chef's hat. He suffered through many a cupcake-gone-wrong or an omelette that was actually scrambled egg but took it like a champ, keeping a jar on top of the fridge called 'Bella's School Fund'. He'd drop some bills in there every week, with every awful creation I made he'd take out his wallet and say something like "I better add a big donation to this jar so I can finally get a decent meal" and wink before adding to it. I still have the money, though it now sits in a savings account with the money from selling my childhood home and his life insurance.

"Ugh, not this again!" I scowl at Edward but my mouth turns up into a smile before too long. "I'm considering my options, okay? It's a big decision," I defend, the rehearsed words coming easily.

"Your options? Forgive me, Bella, but you work 12 hour days in a roadside diner. I'd think you'd be dying to get out of here and get to school, especially if you don't have to take out loans to do it," Edward shoots back, the joking gone from his face. I shift in my seat, uncomfortable with the turn in conversation. The reason I can't go to culinary school isn't one I've admitted out loud to anyone.

"I… I can't. Jake works here, for decent training I'd have to go to Seattle. I can't just move 3 hours away," I clamour to make my words sound believable but they're hollow to my own ears and from the clench of Edward's jaw, he isn't too convinced either.

"You can't move away from your boyfriend? That's weak, Bella. He can work anywhere," Edward quirks an eyebrow at me as he said it and I hate him for being right and for seeing straight through my excuses.

"He's happy here, he works at the garage with his friends and he might get to be assistant manager someday. It's important that he stays here."

Edward bangs his fist on the table, voice quiet and low.

"What about what's important for you? You get to be a shitty waitress and waste your potential because he's too pussy to look for another job? You have to stay here so he can someday maybe be promoted to some position with a dollar an hour pay increase? Seems really worth it, as an outsider," he says in the same tone, hissing in parts and looking angrier than I've seen him.

"Exactly, Edward, as an outsider. You don't understand, okay? I'm scared of going to school on my own, I have no desire to move to Seattle without knowing anyone. I can't ask Jake to move when he's happy here but me not going because he won't? That's on me, not him."

"I don't mean to upset you, it just pisses me off to see you in this fuckin' little town when you could be doing so much more. I get that you don't want to be alone up in a big city but people like you aren't mean to be confined to places like this. They're meant to spread their wings a little, see what the world has to offer them and then soak up every opportunity. People like me and like Jake – well, construction work or being a mechanic is good enough. But you, Bella.. you're meant to soar, not fly a set pattern. You're meant to be the person that other people base their self-worth off of, even if they shouldn't. I just think if Jake loves you as much as you say he does, if he cared half as much about your happiness as you care about his, you wouldn't have to ask him to move, Bella. He'd have already done it."

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When I get home after my shift is finished, the house is empty and dark. Billy is at a friend's so they can go fishing tomorrow morning but Jake should be here seeing as he finished work 4 hours ago. Edward put a perspective on things that I hadn't considered before – I'm bending over backwards to sacrifice my ambition of the last ten years for a job Jake took because there wasn't anything else around. There must be hundreds of mechanic garages in and around Seattle so he could easily find other work; we could come back often to visit Billy. I accepted every other time he brushed me off because I agreed with what he said: Billy had taken me in when I needed him, moving 4 hours away was a slap in the face and it was ungrateful to leave. Except it doesn't seem so ungrateful anymore, instead it feels more like Jake's attempts to manipulate a young girl without many ties to anyone or anything except him and Billy. The longer I think about the truth of what Edward said the angrier I get, the bitterness festering deep in my belly. It's just as I'm about to call Jake to find out where he is that I spot a note on the kitchen table. I only see 'won't be home' before I stop reading. I'm unsurprised, this has happened often over the past several months and usually I'm unperturbed by spending a night in a lonely bed but tonight it just adds to my disappointment with Jake. He can't be bothered to call or spend 30 seconds on a fucking text, instead scrawling a note on the back of a coffee-stained envelope so I'll find it when I get home. I turn off the light and head to bed where I lay awake for most of the night.

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"Shit, shit, shit! You were fine yesterday! Piece of crap," I shout at the truck, running inside to look for Sam's number. It's 6am and I'm going to be late for my shift unless Jake comes to pick me up within the next 5 minutes. He isn't answering his cell even though I've called 3 or 4 times by now so instead I dial Sam, waiting for him to pick up and bitch me out. I'm not disappointed.

"Jesus, what time is it? Who is this and what the hell do you want?"

"Sam hi, it's Bella. I'm sorry to call but I need you to get Jake to come home, my truck won't start and I'm going to be late for work," I rush out, not having time to waste.

"He isn't here, Bell, why did you think he would be? I haven't seen him since he left work yesterday when he turned down the offer of coming for a beer. I'll swing by to look at your truck later though. Now, I'm going back to sleep. Bye."

He clicks off before I can reply and I scramble around the kitchen for Seth's number. If Jake isn't with Sam then he'll be with Seth, but I have no idea how to get a hold of him. Thankfully I find it his information in the book we keep next to the answering machine and dial the numbers, pacing into the kitchen and stopping by the table.

There is a moment when you're on a rollercoaster, climbing up and up towards the descent that you finally see the crest of the track. Your autonomic nervous system kicks into overdrive, adrenaline racing its way through your body. Your heart pounds so hard you can feel it pulsing in your temples; your hands begin to shake and sweat while your pupils dilate and your stomach bottoms out, freefalling endlessly down. Your muscles tense up in preparation for what's to come.

On the table in front of me sits the note Jake left last night. The only line I see is '_Going out with the guys and staying with Sam, won't be home'._

And then comes the drop.

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**A/N: Yeahhh, I went there. See you in a few days!**


	5. Chapter 4

**A/N: Still don't own it. Insomnia is kicking my ass right now, so you can have this chapter early. Thanks as usual to DD for all her guidance and love!**

**Those of you who hated Jake last chapter (so everyone who reviewed), I think this chapter will really change your opinion of him... or not ;)**

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I reach one trembling hand toward the dog-eared envelope, letting my eyes scan the note for any sign that I'm wrong in what I'm seeing, any sign that things aren't about to come crashing down around my ears. I run a finger over Sam's name, hoping to rub it out and see another name there; willing this to just be a mistake. I suck in a deep breath, trying to shake my brain from the hazy fog it seems to be under and take a seat, clutching the note between bone-white fingertips and ignoring the steady drip-drop of tears on the paper as the minutes tick by. I just need to wait for Jake - all this can be cleared up and sorted as soon as he gets back.

It isn't until rain-dulled rays of sun break through the blinds that he comes home, whistling and walking towards our room. I turn toward him and say his name as he walks past the kitchen door, causing him to whirl around and clutch his chest; eyes wide and breathing heavy.

"Are you trying to fucking kill me, Bella?" he hollers, muttering low curse words as he makes his way into the kitchen. "How come you aren't at work? You were meant to be on early shift today."

"Where were you?" I ask, my voice scratchy and tear-thickened.

"What do you mean, where was I? I left that note. What's going on with you?" he replies, his eyebrows furrowing as he gestures towards the now wrinkled paper I'm still grasping.

"I know you left the note, I've read the note. Where were you?" I repeat, barely pushing the words out through the lump in my throat. Not much longer, I think to myself, soon he'll explain why he wasn't there. Soon he'll tell me he stayed at Seth's and we'll laugh at the fears and concerns sitting like a breeze block in my stomach.

"You're acting really damn weird, Bell. It says right there that we went for some beers and I crashed at Sam's," he says smoothly, without hesitation. I close my eyes as I try desperately to make sense of what's happening. Jake is lying, which means I'm not going to like what comes next. I drop the note and dig my fingernails into my palms, summoning any strength I have. I feel torn open in the face of Jake's bare-faced lie, broken by the ease with which the bullshit spews from his mouth and hits me like a wrecking ball in the spine.

"I called Sam, Jake. My truck wasn't working so I called him to look for you. You weren't there, you hadn't been there. You weren't at the bar either. You wouldn't lie unless you had something to hide, so again, where were you?" I ask again, my voice rising in volume toward the end. I relish in the bite of sharp nail into my soft flesh, letting it ground me and channelling the hurt into anger. He isn't leaving until I have answers.

"I… Bell, let's just leave it alone. You don't want to go into this," he says, causing my eyes to snap back open, his ashen complexion telling me I have to go into it whether I wanted to or not.

"Just tell me, Jake. You do not tell me what I want, not anymore," I spit, watching his eyes widen and his throat expand with the force of his swallow.

"I was at Leah Clearwater's house," he finally admits, barely loud enough to hear. My stomach briefly drops before squeezing tighter than ever. Leah Clearwater? Jake's known her since they were children. He couldn't, wouldn't do that to me, not with her.

"I don't understand, Leah Clearwater's house? What were you doing there?" I question, my eyes burning with tears in tandem with how Jake's spine stiffens. The way he's twisting his hands tells me all I need to know, but he owes me this. "Say it, Jacob. If you could fuck another woman when we were engaged to be married then you can have the balls to at least tell me so."

"I… it was just meant to be once, okay?" he says, stopping abruptly when he sees my expression.

"It's been more than once? I can't… I don't understand. You've been sleeping with her behind my back? Oh my God. Oh my God," I repeat like a mantra. I feel weightless, like my body has shattered and the pieces are floating away; shards of my form drifting all around the room until they disintegrate into dust. I swallow convulsively and wrap my arms around myself in an attempt to stop the crumbling , though I can't stop the way my pulse is hammering in my neck. "How long?"

He doesn't answer at first, giving me time to remember and relive every night he went out with the guys while I stayed home alone in a bed too big for one. The memories play in my head like a silent film until I am encased and covered by hurt.

"How fucking long?" I shout, watching Jake jolt. It's been so long since I've held any power over him, so long since I've felt at all in control of our relationship that his reaction gives me the courage I need, the criss-cross bindings surrounding my heart loosening in response. I breathe deeply through my nose as he opens his mouth.

"Months, Bella. It's been months," he says, shaking his head as his eyes meet mine. His face is pained and drawn but I can barely see it through my disbelief. Months. He's been sleeping with her for months.

"Why do this? Why not break up with me? I don't understand, Jake."

"I couldn't do it, Bella, Billy would have been devastated…" he trails off while I try to contain my temper. My earlier shock and sadness has gone, bleeding instead into the red mist clouding my vision.

"Billy would be devastated? You're telling me you had an affair out of the kindness of your heart so you could spare your father having to watch us break up? In what world does that sound logical?" I question in disbelief. I don't know what to say.

"He's always wanted us to be together, always talking to everyone about our engagement… I didn't want to let him down, okay? It seemed to make sense at the time Bella, you weren't ever supposed to find out. It was meant to be a physical thing, nothing more," he practically whines, the pleading note in his voice setting my teeth on edge.

"Supposed to be? So it isn't just physical?"

"I'm in love with her, Bella. It wasn't ever meant to happen like this and I'm so sorry for how you must be feeling right now, but I can't help the way I feel."

I slump into one of the chairs, feeling exhausted from this conversation. To hear that Jake was sleeping with her was bad enough but to think of him in love is sickening. All the times he rejected me, made me feel unwanted and undesirable were because he had her.

"So what was the grand plan, then? Thinking Billy would be okay with us breaking up as long as you had some kind of replacement for me? I bet he's going to be really comforted by that," I bite out, feeling bolstered by the way Jake winces as my words hit their mark.

"He can't know—"

"No. You're truly insane if you think I'm going along with any kind of fucking plan to keep your infidelity quiet, Jake."

"A month, Bella, that's all I ask. I can't do this to him just before Mom's anniversary rolls around. I'll sleep on the floor, whatever you want. Just give me a month to find somewhere to live and get shit sorted before we tell him. Please, Bell. I need this," he reaches his hand toward my arm in entreaty but I snatch it out of his range before he can make contact.

I close my eyes in an attempt to quiet the war raging in my head. Billy's wife Rachel died not long after Jake was born and it's no secret that Billy fell to pieces. Jake was too young to remember anything of her but Billy is always withdrawn and quiet in the week leading up to the date of her death, drunk more often than he's sober. I feel my chest constrict at the thought of telling him now, my heart aching imagining him being pushed even further toward alcohol. I know that I'm playing straight into Jake's hands; surrendering once again to his manipulation. This time, though, it feels like I have no other option.

"This is for him, Jake, not for you. I owe you nothing," I say, watching as his eyes close in obvious relief. "But I have conditions."

* * *

**A/N: I'm a cliffie-loving bitch, I know. Poor Bella, stuck between a rock and a hard place. What would you do if you were her? **

**See you Sunday!**


	6. Chapter 5

**A/N: I own nothing except multiple reviews asking WTF I was thinking last chapter. Hopefully this will clear things up a little.**

* * *

To say Leah looks surprised to see me when I step out of Jake's car and knock on her door would be an understatement. I refused to talk to Jake, instead telling him I wanted to lay out my conditions to Leah - I thought his eyes would bug out of his head, they went so wide. He didn't insist on coming with me, though, and from the bewildered look on Leah's face he didn't let her know I'd be here. She manages to plaster a smile on her face but she's eyeing me like one wrong move and I'll explode. She isn't too far off.

"Bella, what are y—"

"Don't insult me, Leah. Jake told me everything. I'm here to set some things straight," I interrupt, smirking as her mouth opens in shock.

"You… you know? He told you? I, I don't," she says, stammering her way through her words. Guess guilt kills your brain cells.

"You don't need to say anything, just listen. Jake and I sure as fuck aren't together anymore but Billy will not know that anytime soon. Until the time comes when we tell him we've broken up, you and Jake need to keep this little love story quiet. I will not be played for even more of a fool. You will make sure Jake's home with me every night, seeing as he can't seem to do it himself. No-one is to know about this before Jake tells you it's all over; I refuse to take part in some ridiculous plan of Jake's only for it to get back to Billy because you couldn't keep your mouth shut."

Leah's mouth opens and closes before her eyebrows pull together and she frowns, "Jake planned this? For you and him to pretend to be together? I don't…" she trails off, shaking her head.

"I guess you don't know him as well as you thought, hm? This is what he does, Leah. He manipulates everyone around him until we're all puppets in his show," I tell her, thinking of all the times he played me over the years. No more.

"Oh, and another thing, don't fuck him until we're through. I couldn't care less about whatever forbidden love you two think you have going on, but I refuse to share a room with him when he's been fucking you hours before," I say sardonically, gloating inside when I see her mouth drop open. It's not long before her Little Miss Innocent act drops, her face falling into a mask of jagged edges and harsh lines.

"You can't… that's not your business! You can't tell us how to run our relationship like that and threaten to tell Billy if we don't play by your little rules. You can't use him as leverage. Besides, whose side do you think he'll take? His own son's or the stray he took in?"

I've no doubt Leah's hostility stems from her embarrassment and Jake's lies, but right now that means shit to me. She wants to fight dirty? Game fucking on.

"Jake really seems to have you thinking I'm timid little Bella, lost and alone in the world. Tell me, did his bullshit ease the guilt of sleeping with an engaged man? The lies he told made you feel vindicated, made you feel sorry for him for having to put up with me?"

She averts her eyes, but it's enough to give me my answer. Of course Jake lied – that's who he is and what he does.

"Lucky break, Leah. Not only did you win a man who cheats, but one who'll lie through his teeth to get a woman into bed. For your information I gave Jake everything he asked for and more. I gave over my dreams, my ambitions, my hopes and I got this in return," I say through clenched teeth.

There is a part of me, as I let Leah know exactly what Jake can be like, that can't help but think of my attraction to Edward, wonder whether that made me unresponsive or unloving toward Jake. I allow that thought to flit through my head for about a second before I remind myself I never made a move on Edward; that I stuck by Jake when faced with a spark I doubt he and Leah feel a thousandth of. Maybe it's partially my fault for staying in a relationship I felt increasingly unsure about, but that doesn't negate the fact that Leah slept with a man promised to someone else. I take a deep breath before laying down my final trump card, soft voice belying the threat-soaked words.

"You think Billy is my leverage? No. Billy is my parent, not my pawn. My leverage rests solely on your shoulders, Leah."

"You can't touch me, Bella. So you let people know? Me and Jake will weather through anything you throw," she says and for a moment I feel genuine sympathy for this girl, played by a man who promised her everything and will give nothing.

"How'd you like that fancy school you teach at?" I ask, temptation for revenge sitting bitter and yet so fulfilling in the base of my stomach. It only grows as Leah's face gradually changes from confused to understanding, the warmth of my retribution funnelling through my veins and gathering somewhere around my voice box.

"Catholic school, isn't it? Billy mentioned you were finishing your training up there. Tell me, Leah, last time you checked what kind of view did the church take on adultery?"

It feels good to have the upper hand in this situation - shame and fear are written in every worry line wrinkling Leah's face – but it also feels empty in a way I didn't expect. I'm not a spiteful person contrary to my behaviour today and I feel exhausted, beaten down by the malice taking over. I nod at Leah and get back into Jake's car, driving out of sight and then stopping. I curl inward as hurt bursts from deep inside me and paralyses my muscles, leaving me to sit hunched over the steering wheel and sob.

* * *

Edward is angrier than I've ever seen him later that night at the diner as I tell him about Jake's relationship on the side. It feels wrong to be speaking to him about it, but reality has begun to kick in and I need to sort through everything. None of my so-called friends are an option, being more Jake's friends than mine, leaving me with Edward or Billy. Obviously the latter is out, so Edward it is.

"That spineless little shit. I knew before that he was no good for you, but this…" he trails off and clenches his jaw, the muscles there bunching as he grinds his teeth together. "Should you even be here? Shouldn't you be at home sorting shit out?"

"There's nothing to sort out, Edward. He never asked me to forgive him, never even mentioned staying together. It was as though he was willing to let me go as long as it was on his terms, of course."

"On his terms?" Edward asks, eyes boring into me as they narrow in suspicion.

This is the part I was dreading. "I.. I'm not moving out of Billy's house just yet. There are some personal issues that have meant it's better for me to stay and keep things as they are, just for a while." I say, trying my best to look resolute and sure even as Edward looks at me like I'm crazy.

"You're still living in the same house as that ass? What the hell are you doing, Bella?"

"I'm doing it for Billy, if Jake and I were to break up now it'd make the next few weeks unbearably tough for him. Jake told me it'd be best to let it lie for a while and I said I'd go along with it."

"You won't even tell him you've broken up? Why would you do anything that scumbag says? Do you like being manipulated or something?" Edward's words are ugly as he spits them at me, the judgemental look he sports even more so.

I tense in the vinyl booth, the fabric sticking to my flushed and overheated skin. "Do I enjoy it? What part of it would I enjoy, Edward? I'm doing this because I feel I owe it to Billy. I am not about to let an aspect of his life he thinks is sorted fall apart. Not only would he have to face up to Jake's poor choices but we'd both be moving out and leaving him at the time of the year where he needs some kind of stability."

"He took you in because he wanted to, Bella, you don't owe him anything. He's the one that's meant to be acting like a parent to you rather than you taking care of him," Edward says. I begin to interject but he just talks louder, drowning me out. "I can't believe you'd go along with this. Jake should deal with his own famil-"

"Enough!" I say, lurching forward in my seat and jarring the table so it knocks into Edward. "You will shut your mouth, right the fuck now. Billy is the closest thing to family I have, so don't tell me I should leave Jake to deal with his father's dramas by himself. You do not tell me what to do, no-one does. Do you understand me?"

Edward's expression is shocked and then turns to pained as he nods, averting his eyes towards the tabletop. I take a deep breath and slouch back, letting my muscles loosen. We sit in silence for a couple of minutes. I'm usually content to sit and talk to Edward but right now I find myself wishing another customer would come in. I crack my neck and sigh as the remorse for the way I spoke to Edward hits me. I look up at him across the booth and see his face contorted. Instantly I feel terrible - this strong man who has done nothing but be a friend to me and I've made him feel like shit. I suppose my reaction to Edward was so strong because it's an argument I've been having with myself all day. I swing from thinking I'm doing the right thing to being convinced I've been played by Jake and then back again. It's exhausting, but I know that's no excuse. I reach across the table and lay my hand over Edward's, smiling shakily as he looks up.

"I'm sorry for snapping. I'm not trying to argue with you Edward, everything is just so messed up in my head right now. I'm still in shock, I think. I woke up this morning engaged and suddenly I have nothing in a month's time. I can't live with Billy after Jake's gone, sleeping in the room we shared isn't an option; I have no friends and I work in this shitty diner day after day. I don't understand how this is my life. Please don't make it worse by turning on me too. This is my decision, the one I can live with." I say, blinking furiously to stop the tears that have lingered all day. I'm hurt and humiliated by everything, tiredness permeating my bones. Edward nods and turns his hand over so my soft palm touches his work-roughened one. I look down at his scarred knuckles, the harsh diner lights making them more apparent.

"You don't ever have to apologise to me, you hear? I was being a dick and you told me so, no harm in that," Edward teases, ducking down to catch my eye and giving me a small smile as he rubs his thumb over the creases of my fingers. "Besides, have you seen me lately? Wouldn't do much for my rep to let myself be bothered by a little girl like you," he says, smile widening. We sit in the too-warm diner in silence after that, Edward tracing patterns on my fingertips.

"I wish you'd tell me where he works so I could go kick his fuckin' ass. Don't suppose you'd let that happen, though." Edward says in a low voice, looking up at me as he clenches his free fist in a way that makes me very glad he and Jake likely won't meet. I shake my head, smiling at him reproachfully. "Didn't think so. If you honestly think this is best for you, then of course I've got your back. As for the other shit, look at this as an opportunity. You could finally move up to Seattle like you wanted and get out of this dead-end place. You not having any ties isn't necessarily a bad thing, just means you can move a lot easier and quicker. You really want to watch that asshole flaunting his floozy around town?" He asks.

I grimace at the thought of seeing Jake and Leah together on a regular basis - just because I'm going along with this plan doesn't mean I'm at all happy about the two of them. "You're right. I couldn't live around here knowing they were here too, it's going to kill me having to be around Jake for the next few weeks even without Leah there. If they ever come into the diner I'll probably run them out with knives from the kitchen," I say, laughing at the image. "I guess I have no reason not to go to Seattle anymore. As much as I love Billy, I don't want to make him choose between me and Jake and I feel like he wouldn't have much choice but to do that if we were both around. I don't have any friends here, so I'm pretty much free to do what I want. Apart from Billy no-one around here would miss me and I don't think I'd miss them either."

Edward's hand tightens around mine almost to the point of pain, though he loosens his grip as soon as he sees my wince. He lets go of my hand and scratches his jaw, looking extremely uncomfortable. I'm instantly curious – Edward is probably the most self-assured person I know. I've never seen a hint of nervousness from him before but he is unmistakably so now. I tilt my head at him when he looks my way, causing him to heave a sigh before he shakes his head. "Bell… don't make me go all sappy on you. You know you have me, right?"

I feel the air's been knocked out of me slightly but I respond with the usual snark I show around him."Yeah, I'll just come into work and sit around in the hopes you come in to chat," I say, rolling my eyes and pretending it's not something I do most days.

"Well pass me over your cell and I'll put my number in, sassy." he says, smirking at me and raising his eyebrows.

I am undeniably taken off guard, my own eyebrows rising in response. "Huh, I was starting to think you didn't have one. I've never seen you use it," I say, questioning but doing as he asks. It's not that I think Edward is the loner type per se, but he's relatively new to town and stand-offish where strangers are concerned. Sometimes when he's here late at night, he sits at the back of the diner like a guard dog, sending shitty looks to any guy who gets too forward with me. Between his broad body and the scar on his face they usually take the hint. I can't imagine he'd make friends too easily.

Edward shrugs, passes my phone back and shoves some of his probably freezing cold fries into his mouth, waiting until he's finished chewing before he speaks, "It wasn't respectful to give you my number when you were with Jake – I'd be furious if some punk tried that with my girl, friends or not. Besides," he looks up at me and winks as he says the next part, "I had no reason to use my phone before. You'll have to give me one."

I may not be sure of much right now, but I'm sure that I can do.

* * *

**A/N: So, do we understand Bella's thought process better now? **


	7. Chapter 6

**A/N: Sorry for the delay! Between real life kicking my arse and this being a lot longer than the other chapters, I had some trouble getting it done. Anyway, hope you enjoy it.**

* * *

A week later and Jake is acting better than he did when we were together, which makes me feel both relief and worry at the same time. I'm glad that he's not flaunting his relationship with Leah in front of me – though I know he'd have no right to anyway, I wouldn't put it past him. He's home on time every night, even helping out around the house and though I'm glad to receive the help given the shitty situation he's put me in, I can't help but wonder about his motives. I don't doubt that he cares deeply for Billy's wellbeing, but Jake isn't the type of person to do something for the benefit of someone else. He's pleasant even when I'm hostile; calm responses to my biting temper and I'm adrift with confusion at his sudden turnaround in attitude. As the days go on, I find myself hoping that he's learning from this whole experience and turning over a new leaf, but I won't let myself forget the years of being seen and not heard at his hands no matter how many dishes he cleans. He's been sleeping on the floor of our bedroom without complaint, not mentioning the undoubtedly uncomfortable floor even when I see him trying to massage cricks from his neck in the mornings. I wouldn't say I'm happy or proud that he's finally acting like an adult, given the circumstances, but I'd be lying if I said it wasn't gratifying to see him dealing with the consequences of his actions. I'm waiting for his inevitable slip, though, and there's no question in my mind that it'll happen soon. Jake loves to play mind games but doesn't have the patience or self-regulation necessary for them; he'll string something out only to let it blow up due to his temper. It's this volatility that makes his manipulation so cruel – you've lost before you even knew you were playing; a set of rules crafted and kept only by him yet ones I'm meant to somehow abide by.

That's what I tried to warn Leah of, his propensity to put a spin on even seemingly useless pieces of information so that they portray him in a saintly light. I was hurt that he'd managed to convince someone I'd known for years that I deserved to be lied to and cheated on, but I wouldn't say I was surprised. Nor was I surprised to find out all his friends knew of the affair, their faces at the weekly game night guilty and sheepish, those that were bold enough to look in my direction that is. It just fuelled my ire toward Jake further, knowing he'd managed to make these people take sides by telling them something they had to keep from me – and it was clear it was a battle I'd lost. He'd taken my dreams, as an adolescent girl blinded by a need for love, and twisted them into something that caused an ever-present knot of guilt and selfishness sitting over my heart and making it ache. Now he'd taken my dignity, as a lost young woman trying to find somewhere she belongs, and stolen from me the boys I looked to as brothers. I wasn't foolish or naïve enough not to realise the guys had their share of the blame too but ultimately they were controlled like puppets in a show, just like me.

* * *

The first time I message Edward, it's a cop-out, a text telling him this is my number seeing as he didn't take it down the day before. He replies with, '_So, you were that desperate to talk to me huh?_' and I love and hate that he seems to know me so well. We text back and forth over the course of the day, me taking the opportunity to ask him questions that I haven't had the chance to ask before. He moved here from Seattle but before that lived in Chicago. He's purposefully vague about his time there, only telling me it was best that he left - though I suspect there's a more pertinent reason he moved clear across the country, I'm wary of overstepping boundaries we seem to have created. He lives in a small one bedroom apartment on the edge of town, apparently not wanting the house-share option that many of the construction guys seem to favour. It becomes clear that this is his first ever construction job – he says as much when I ask why he moved from Seattle – but is cagey about any previous jobs. It's both infuriating and appealing at the same time, which causes me to roll my eyes at my own stereotypical desire for a man of mystery. I can't help telling Edward how his mysterious act will probably help him bag a lot of girls, to which he replies with a '_Not really interested'. _I'm torn between wanting to know what he means and fearing the response too much to ask him, but he saves me from my indecision by asking if I'll be working tomorrow. I tell him I will and he says he'll see me there, leaving me to sit in frustration poring over his earlier comment.

As I come from the bathroom later that night fresh from the bath, immediately things feel off. Billy is out somewhere, which in and of itself isn't odd, but the house is silent - when Jake's around he always has something on for background noise so I'm immediately confused. I walk from our bedroom to find him sat on the couch in the living room, staring at the floor with my phone on the table in front of him. I step forward before thinking better of it, I can tell from the tense set of Jake's body that this isn't going to be a pleasant conversation. I instead wait by the doorway, waiting for him to look up at me.

When he does I'm struck by the anger on his face. His usually warm complexion is now flushed red, his eyes even redder. "Who the fuck is Edward?" he says, voice twisted with rage.

"You went through my phone? How DARE you?" I shout back, putting my hands on my hips. That he would have the audacity to interfere with any aspect of my life is beyond belief.

"How dare I? What else do you expect me to do when I see you texting away and smiling to yourself all weekend, Bella? Then I find out you've been texting some prick called Edward while you've got me bending over backwards to please you!"

"Bending over backwards to please me... this was all your idea, Jacob. You don't get to cheat on me and then dictate who I can and can't speak to when I'm only still here because of some little plan you concocted to get out of taking any responsibility for your actions!" I say. The fury inside me is taking on a life of its own, just waiting for the opportunity to strike.

"I asked you who Edward was, Bella."

"I know what you asked me, I chose not to answer it. You do not demand anything of me and get an answer. I cannot believe you'd invade my privacy like this!"

"You only need privacy if you've got something to hide! Just tell me who the fucker is," he says, practically growling his voice is so feral and low.

"He's a friend, Jacob. You've read the messages and seen what we said; he's just someone I'm getting to know is all! I don't understand why you think your behaviour right now is okay," I say in a soft tone, hoping to quell some of his anger. By the looks of his face I haven't succeeded.

"Oh so you can play the poor Bella act when you've been texting some guy all along and I'm expected to let it slide? It's okay for you to cheat but not for me to do it, huh?" he spits, his face getting more pink as time goes on; the vein in his forehead bulging in time with his insults.

"What are you even talking about?! I had nothing to do with Edward in anything more than a waitress capacity before a couple of days ago," I say, willing my voice not to waver. I do my best to avoid lying where possible, but frankly I haven't seen Jake this angry before and I'm scared. I don't know how to explain mine and Edward's relationship because it's not something I fully comprehend myself. I just know that I'm not about to lay my cards out and tell him I feel a connection with Edward that feels like a reflex because it's so inbuilt into my life; it's not something I can stop or change. Instead I stare him down and change tactics. "Besides, even if we were something more... if I had something with anyone it would be none of your business!"

Apparently this is the wrong thing to say, as Jacob stands up as soon as the words leave my mouth, his face contorting into a snarl that makes him unrecognisable as the boy I fell in love with. Before I can blink, he picks up the bowl from the side table next to him, pitching it forward into the wall next to my head. Cracked pieces of ceramic rain down on my head and back, sharp edges peppering my skin. I scream and move but the damage is done, my tank top providing no protection. I cower against the wall, whimpering as a wave of pain washes over me. I curl my body inward, looking toward Jake who looks as stunned as me.

"Bella, I didn –" he starts, but I interrupt before he can finish, my thin and frightened voice sounding weak to my own ears.

"Get out. Now."

He swallows and walks towards me. I turn my face as he manoeuvres over the broken bowl and around my slumped body. It's not until I hear his car peel out of the driveway that I take a shuddering breath, wincing as the small cuts on my back contract. While Jake has often lost his temper in the past, punching walls or kicking something, he's never been violent toward me; he's never physically hurt me. The wet warmth of blood drizzling down my face makes me resolute that he never will again.

* * *

I cleaned up the mess before Billy came in blind drunk; bringing with him a message that Jake was staying at a friend's. I let out a breath of relief before helping Billy into bed, cursing him for getting so helplessly intoxicated. After that I went straight to bed, letting my tears coax me into sleep. When I wake up the next morning, it's to sharp stabbing pains all over my back. I drag my body out of bed and move over to the mirror, my eyes filling with yet more tears at the sight of the red ugly cut on my temple. I try to cover it with make-up and when that fails I try to style my hair to cover it, wincing as the brush passes over the abrasions on my scalp. I call into the diner and tell them I'll be in late, hopefully giving me time to take some aspirin to soothe the burn of my back. I look at my reflection; the swollen eyes and weary expression and I'm struck by a memory of Charlie coming home from a domestic violence dispute. He was often quiet when he got home from a rough call, but after this one he was uncharacteristically vocal. He sat me down and told me that as a girl I had to be strong, how sometimes men could use their words and actions to break down a woman just as much as they could with their body. "There's no holding hands with a fist," he told me, and it isn't until now I realise how right he was. There's no going back from this for Jake and I, there will be no magic apology to fix this. I walk through the house until I come across my phone, still lying on the coffee table from last night. I open the message log for Jake, typing '_Unless you want the police involved, you will pack your shit and stay at Sam's for the next few days. I don't care what you tell Billy, just get it done'._ I breathe deeply as I press the send button. My life belongs to no-one but me.

* * *

When I see Edward at the diner later that night, when everyone else has already eaten and left, I enter into new territory for us, wrapping my arms firmly around his stomach and resting my face in his broad chest. He hesitates for only a second before wrapping his arms around me, the muscles in his arms bunching comfortingly against the back of my neck. My whole body sags in relief, melting into him. He rubs circles onto my back and I breathe in, trying to calm myself. I haven't been held without agenda in so long and after the craziness of the past couple of weeks it's definitely needed. I draw back and Edward smiles through the confused expression on his face.

"I just… I needed a hug, I guess. Hi," I say, laughing and wiping under my eyes.

"Hey, you. Are you okay?" He asks in a gentler tone that I've heard him use before. He sounds like he's talking to an upset child.

"I'm okay, or at least I will be okay soon. Things are all up in the air right now," I say, giving a shaky smile. "You go sit down, anyway, I'll put your order in and get your drink ready."

I go to grab the cook from his constant smoke break, leaving him to grunt at me and tell me he'll be there in a minute. I just roll my eyes and walk back through to the diner, glad I don't have to work here much longer if I don't want to. I get Edward's drink and take it over to his table, sitting down on the other side of the booth.

"So… how are you doing?" I ask him, taking the opportunity to look at him. Edward looks pretty much the same whenever I see him; same clothes, same hair, same cocky demeanour. The more I get to know him, though, the more I notice the little changes that occur like the dark circles under his eyes getting less pronounced.

"I'm tired from work, same old. I had a pretty good weekend, though," he says, bright-eyed and smirking.

"Oh?" I ask, confused. He didn't mention that he was doing anything and we were texting pretty much constantly.

"Yeah, see, there's this girl," he says as my stomach flips, "and she's pretty great, but she makes me into a much different person than I've been before, y'know? I'm not sentimental or any of that crap but she makes me want to be. I've done lots of shit in my life that I've had to pay dues for, but she's the type of girl that all that seems worth it if it means you get her. I'm not here to act cagey or coy, that isn't me and it won't ever be me. I want you, and not just for your body, but because of the type of person you are; because every part of you that I see makes me want to know more. You see me in a way I've never been seen before, no-one in my life has ever thought of me like I was good until you. I'd love the chance of something with you, but for now I just want you to know that I'm here and that I'll be here until you're ready."

"But what if I make you wait too long?" I ask, voice small.

"You couldn't, Bell."

I look up at him, this earnest and honest man, this _good_ man. I reach my hand forward to wrap around his, his smile convincing me I've done the right thing.

Before long, the bell is ringing to signal Edward's food is ready. I go to get it and bring it back, hesitating briefly before sliding into the same side of the booth as him. I regret that immediately when he looks over at me, smug and smirking.

"Well well, I knew you couldn't resist me for long. Start talkin', you know I hate when I'm eating and you're silent" he says, removing anything that isn't meat or cheese from his burger.

"I'm going to go ahead with those applications for culinary school, I still have the form I requested from a few months ago. I just have to fill in my high school stuff and that's it, seeing as I don't need loans or anything." I tell him, his happy expression triggering my own smile.

"Great news. Have you told asshole that you'll be leaving yet? I bet that was satisfying." He says, laughing.

My smile drops, my throat tightening at the mention of Jake. "I haven't, no; he's not around right now."

"He isn't around right now? What does that mean?" he says, somehow managing to give me a disapproving look even through a mouthful of fries.

"We had an argument," I say, my eyes filling with tears before I can school them, making me tilt my face up so I can blink them back. In doing so, my hair falls back too, causing Edward to go from puzzled to angry as he spots the cut on my face.

"What happened to give you that little beauty?" he says, carefully calm voice making it obvious he'll see through any lies in a minute flat. I don't want to lie anymore, anyway, I feel like I'm tangled in a web of them, drowning in deceit and false truths.

"Jake lost his temper" is as much as I get out before Edward clenches his eyes shut and his whole body stiffens. "He didn't mean to hit me I don't think, he just threw a bowl and it hit the wall next to me."

"I don't give two shits whether he meant it or not, you're hurt. Fuck! I knew you shouldn't be left anywhere near that scumbag. Goddammit. Where else are you hurt?" he says, eyes scanning my body as though cuts will magically appear.

"My back took most of it," I tell him, watching as he balls his hand into a fist.

"Please tell me you're getting out of there as soon as possible, or so help me God I'll drag you out of there myself," he threatens, eyes narrowed. He's practically vibrating with adrenaline, his whole body throwing out warning signs.

"I am. I told him he needs to stay with a friend for a few days until I can get my stuff out of there and find somewhere to rent."

"Will you find somewhere that quickly?" Edward asks, still looking slightly suspicious and a lot angry.

I shrug. "I should be able to, there's not much of a thriving real estate market round here. Hopefully I'll get an acceptance to one of the schools I'm going to apply to and it'll only be temporary anyway."

"I've got a bed that's yours as long as you want it. I'm not trying to take advantage of you, Bella, if you need somewhere to stay you say the word and it's yours. I've slept on worse than a couch before now," he says, teasing. I manage to smile, happy he's calmed down at least slightly.

"I don't know what I would have done without you these past couple of weeks, you know." I tell him sincerely. Between his advice on culinary school, his advice on the Leah situation and now the offer of somewhere to stay he's been the force pulling me through all this mess.

"Count yourself lucky you won't have to find out," he says, and I really do.

* * *

A couple of days later, I'm in the middle of making massive changes. I've sent off all the forms needed for culinary school, listing Edward's apartment as my address (with his permission) so Jake won't have access to the letter. I don't want him knowing where I'm going. I've put the feelers out with some real estate agents, being able to pay a couple of months in advance in cash has pretty much guaranteed I'll be first in line when something does become available – which I'm hoping is soon as Billy's drinking seems even more out of control than usual as of late. I'm feeling detached from him as time goes on, perhaps because as he drinks more he's less like the person I knew growing up. It hurts my heart to see him so sad but I know he won't find happiness at the bottom of a vodka bottle and deep down, so does he. I only hope that when the anniversary of Rachel's death passes things will improve, though I doubt it will happen. I shake my head and look back down at my list of things I'll need to buy when I move, just as my phone goes off with the message tone. I pick it up, a sick feeling starting in my stomach when I see it's from Jake.

'_I really need to pick up some more stuff, when's a good time?'_

I chew my lip, knowing I have to see him sometime – better it be on my terms than his.

'_Now, if you can make it_' I type back, mentally steeling myself.

It's not even 10 minutes later that I hear a set of keys in the door. Billy's no doubt passed out in his bedroom, thankfully, so at least he won't have to hear how awkward this is going to be. I've packed a bag of stuff for Jake, mostly so he doesn't have a reason to stay here for too long. I steel myself and look up as he walks in, though I immediately gasp when he enters. His face is a cacophony of colour, covered in bruises and small cuts.

"What the fuck happened to your face?" I blurt before I can stop myself, watching as Jake grimaces.

"Uh, yeah, guess someone took a dislike to my temper," he says, joking, but it comes out flat and sad.

"Who would do that to you, though?" I say, confused.

"It's not important, Bella. I really do just need some stuff and then I'll go," he replies, looking at his feet as they shuffle on the floor.

"O...Okay. There's a bag there for you there, it has everything you should need for a few days," I tell him, wincing as I see the bruise peeking from the neckline of his t-shirt as he moves forward.

"Always taking care of me, huh? For what it's worth, Bella, I'm sorry. Not just for what happened the other day but for everything. I know I made a mess of things and I.. well, like I said, I'm sorry", he says, back toward me the whole time.

"I know you are. Bye, Jake."

He just nods and walks out of our bedroom and out of the house, leaving me to fall back on the bed and ponder what the hell just happened. It's obvious something happened to make him face up to all the bullshit he put me through, but I have no idea what, considering I tried enough times to tell him. And his face, that was awful. I sit confused as I think of all his friends, judging by their behaviour the last time I saw them none of them had any sympathy, so I can't imagine one of them doing anything. I can't think of anyone else who knows, apart from Edward – and then I remember his comment about Jake needing to learn a lesson. But he wouldn't, surely? I text him asking if he'd know anything about Jake coming over black and blue, though I'm fairly sure I know the answer.

It isn't until a few hours later when I've finished all my list-making and tidying up Billy's empty bottles that I get a reply.

'_Sorry, couldn't text as I had to ice my knuckles ;) Can't say I know anything about what happened to that piece of shit, not at all, no idea. BTW – did you know he can't throw a punch to save his life?'_

As much as I don't like physical violence, I can't help the smile that spreads across my face.

* * *

That smile stays for much of the next two days, even with the rude patrons at the diner and Billy's ever-increasing contribution to the bottle bank appearance of our trash can. I haven't seen Edward since he declared himself and I'm almost glad, because it gives me time to figure out where my head's at. I feel as though I shouldn't be ready to move on, yet I am. I'm still upset and hurt but the warm, molten sunshine that takes over my tummy whenever I hear from Edward is making that seem less and less important. I'm under no misconceptions that he's perfect and I'm aware that he's keeping much of his life pre-Seattle a secret - but I also know that he cares for me and being with him would take no effort on my part.

It's on the day of Jake's mom's death that I have some kind of 'life's too short' epiphany and resolve to tell him that I want to go for it – to date, to have some stupid romance I haven't before, to do things that he'll hate but put up with because it's me asking him to do them. I hope that he'll come in to the diner before the end of my shift but he doesn't, leaving me slightly defeated but no less resolute in my decision to tell him. It'll just take some more time.

I'm not surprised when I come home later that night to find the lights off and silence throughout the house. Jake and I have always stayed out of Billy's way on the day of his mom's death, trying to give him some space to grieve – or drink until he couldn't see straight, which was what tended to happen. I close my eyes, trying to prepare for the sight of beer bottles that are likely strewn across the house just as the phone in the living room begins to ring, making me run forward into the pitch black trying to grab it. I get a few steps into the room before I slip and skid, cursing as my shin comes into contact with a metal bar. In the darkness I can't see what I've fallen into so I try to boost myself up on my hands, only for them to become immersed in the viscous and sticky liquid covering every part of me that's touching the floor. I grimace and push myself up as best I can, recoiling as I turn on the light switch; my eyes blinking rapidly to try and accommodate to the change in brightness. I move my hand from the wall, about to turn around when a flash of colour catches my eye and causes me to bring my hand up toward my face, blanching as soon as I get close enough to smell the metallic tang of the ruby pooling between the cracks in my fingers.

"Billy!" escapes my mouth in a rush of air but I can't seem to get my limbs to move. I let out a mournful cry and steel myself before manoeuvring my stiff body to face what's behind me. And that was how I found myself staring at the dead body of my second father.

* * *

**A/N: So, there's that. Please don't throw things! Anyone interested in an EPOV of Edward and Jake's confrontation? See you Sunday!**


	8. EPOV

**A/N: Here is the offered EPOV. Hope you like it!**

* * *

EPOV

I wave bye to Bella just before I walk out the door of the diner, feeling her smile cause a curve in the corners of my own lips.

"Fuckin' girl got me acting crazy," I mumble as I sit on my bike, shaking my head. Bella's not like anyone else I've ever met - which basically means that she's a good person. She told me her name's Swan but I don't think it fits her. Swans are big ugly fuckers, aggressive when threatened; Bella reminds me of one of those little birds you see at pet stores that have been caged and forgotten how to fly because of it. I knew it from the first time I met her, like the scars on my heart recognised the holes in hers. She was beautiful, and that's a word I've only used for my mother and baby sister before now, but she really was. Maybe not in the way that'd have boys buying a calendar full of her pictures, more like the good in her showed in every feature of her face. She had this beautiful skin which reminded me of cream, smooth and pale. It'd been a long time since I'd seen a woman free of make-up and I revelled in it, following the trail of freckles over an upturned nose and down toward her pink, chapped lips. Her eyes though, they gave me some pause, lined only with dark shadows, circles of soft purple sitting like bruises right underneath. I was intrigued as to what kept her so tired but before I could start a conversation I realised she was looking right at me – or at my scar, to be specific. I could almost hear the thoughts going through her head as she followed it down my neck. I hadn't felt pain from it in years, but as her eyes raked over the marred flesh I could have sworn it was on fire. Later that night when I heard her story about her Dad… something in her voice meant I had to leave a token for her to have, to know that someone heard what she said and thought it was important enough to care about.

As the days and weeks went on and I saw her more, I realised my interest in Bella was actually attraction - which shouldn't have surprised me but seeing I was practically a monk at this point, it really did. There was just something so helpless and lost about her, like she was a fish fighting to swim upstream in a river with a downward current. I listened to her bitch about her asshole of a boyfriend, biting my tongue whenever she mentioned another night he was out with his friends or that she had to stay around here so he could get promoted and finally be one step up from dead end. I knew then and still know now that Bella is too good for me, too nice and too sweet, but there's no doubt in my mind that I'd treat her like gold if given the chance. Back when she was with Jake, that wasn't an option – I'm not the type of man to make moves on someone else's girl, no matter how they're being treated. Then I'd heard about his little affair and wanted to use him as a punching bag but Bella wouldn't let me. I listened to her, stupidly, thinking I'd let the universe give him the retribution he deserved.

Today, though, seeing that cut on her face sealed his fucking fate. Hearing her make excuses for him just made it worse – I'd heard enough about mistaken accidents leading to bruises over the course of my life and this wasn't about to be another one. From everything Bella told me about Jake, I knew his type well. Cocksure, arrogant, thinks he's a big man because he controls a woman like she's his possession. The thing about boys like him is that they're happy to bully people when they know they won't get a return jab. Confronted with someone their own size, though, and they're shitting their pants trying to backtrack. I smirked to myself as I remembered Bella mentioning his friend Sam earlier. I doubt she had any idea what she'd said would lead to anything like this, but that name was all I needed to connect it to 'Sam's Garage' that I drove past every day. Jake wanted to ask Bella questions about me? I'd show him exactly who the fuck I am.

* * *

"I'm here to see Jake." I say I enter the floodlit part of the workshop. It's fairly late in the evening but I figured since Bella kicked Jake out he'd have nowhere to be but working or with his little girlfriend – thank God it was the first one because tracking that bitch's house down would've been a pain in my ass.

"Yeah, who are you?" A stocky guy with black hair shouts from the corner. He's a couple of inches shorter than me and about 30lbs lighter, probably. He's still pretty big and maybe six or seven years ago I'd have intimidated, but not anymore. I have no respect or fear for someone who'd use their strength to intimidate a woman and they sure as hell aren't men in my book. I can see one other guy over the other side of the garage but he's lanky - I'm fairly sure a couple of well aimed punches and he'd be down.

"My name's Edward," I say, watching as he immediately tenses, his eyes narrowing.

"She sent you here?" he fumes.

"No, she has no idea I'm here. I'm here because I wanted to be, because I care about her." I say back in a deliberately calm tone as he scoffs. I have to stop my smirk - he's walking right into the trap I'm laying and I'm going to enjoy every second.

"Oh please, you're here to fight me for Bella's honour now?" he asks, laughing. "You think you can come here, into MY garage and tell me what to do?"

"You think you can leave marks on Bella's body and get away with it?" I retort as he blanches.

"She told you I hit her? 'Cause I fucking didn't, I just threw something and she got hurt," he tries to bullshit, just like I thought he would.

"What you did or didn't do is irrelevant. Raising your hand to her wasn't your first mistake, but I promise it'll be your last as far as Bella's concerned," I tell him softly. Half of the fight with guys like Jake is psychological - you let them think they have the upper hand, you wait for them to come at you and then you turn their arrogance into your weapon. For someone who manipulated Bella for as long as he did, he's not good at recognising when the tables are turned onto him.

"You've got some nerve showing up here," he laughs and shakes his head.

"Only thing I've got is a mean temper and an even nastier right hook, so I'd watch yourself." I bite back, my patience beginning to strain. He's even more of an asshole than I thought.

"You do, huh, tough guy?" He puts down the filthy rag he's been wiping his hands on and comes over toward me. "She's not even that good of a lay, you know, why do you think I had to go elsewhere?"

I let his goading roll off my back before it can stick; I knew coming here that he'd use anything he could to get the upper hand. I tense the muscles in my abdomen, consoling myself that before long he'll take the bait.

"Not here to discuss that with you, though yet again you prove what a worthless prick you are. The only thing I'm here to make clear is that you're to leave Bella alone. You get your shit from that house and wait until she's gone to go back." I tell him, watching as his fingers twitch and he curls them into a fist. Not long now. "Another thing, while I'm here – Leah. I heard she wasn't so nice when Bella went to see her. I also heard you've been filling her head with all sorts of nasty spiteful shit. Now, I couldn't care less what you have to tell a girl to get her to fuck you," I finally let my smile loose as his body begins rocking back and forth slightly in preparation, "but next time, make sure you muzzle the bitch after."

I wait for his punch to find its mark as he swings his fist toward me, but it's even more disappointing than I expected. The flat front of his fingers graze my cheekbone, probably hurting him more than it hurts me. He's thrown off balance by the force of throwing his whole body forward with his arm and I don't bother even bringing my left hand up, instead just tucking my right into a fist and angling it so the knuckles of my middle and index fingers hook into the space under the bridge of his nose. It's a bitch move and we both know it, more intended to taunt than it is to hurt. To Jake's credit he uses the momentum he has to push into my body, forcing me back into the wall. He leaves his body open, though, and I don't know if I've ever had a moment as satisfying as listening to the mangled yell he lets out when I pound my left hand into the area around his liver. He tries relentlessly to get a punch in on my ribs but I push him away before he can get that far, easily dodging his lurching charge back toward me. He ends up pinning himself to the wall and I aim my punch at his throat, automatically causing him to lower his chin in defence and leave me to hit there instead. The smack of his head as it snaps back into the breeze block wall echoes around the garage and I can't help but take a moment to soak in the adrenaline coursing through my veins. Being on parole doesn't exactly give you a lot of opportunity to get into fights at random and in reality, I definitely shouldn't be here now. It's risky but I'm banking on Jake being too embarrassed over getting his ass beat to report me to the police, which is also why I made sure he threw the first punch just in case.

I'm bought back to reality by a sucker punch to my mouth – while it's wasn't any more effective than the others he's thrown, I somehow manage to bite my own lip pretty fucking hard and it's not long before I taste blood coating my gums. I decide to end this here and now. I smash my forearm across Jake's throat, watching as he begins to gasp for breath, bringing my face close to his reddening one.

"Tell me, how does it feel to be weak and vulnerable at the hand of someone else? How the fuck do you like someone's temper being taken out on you?" I ask lowly, letting his weak punches hit my body. "The next time you want to want to pretend to be a tough guy, pick someone your own size. You treated that girl like something you stepped in and I'm here to tell you it stops now. You're fucking done." I lean harder on my forearm before pushing away from him, watching as he begins to splutter and cough.

"You're pathetic, and I want you to remember it. Oh, and if I hear that you've been bothering Bella again, this will seem like a holiday compared to what happens next time. I've told her I'll take care of her now, and I will tear you limb from limb and rip your little world apart before I go back on that."

I spit the blood pooling in my mouth out across the cement floor and eye Jake's hunched form before turning around. As I'm walking out I see the other guy in the garage, still stood by the car he was working on when I walked in. I raise an eyebrow in his direction.

"What? That dick has had it coming for a long time now. Just glad I was here to watch it," he says, shrugging.

My resulting laugh follows me out of the shop and back into the night.

* * *

**A/N: So.. anyone want an Edward of their own? I just want to take a minute to be gushy and thank everyone who reads my story, but especially the regular group of reviewers I have. It's trite, but it really does mean a lot to me that you care enough to give feedback. Think of this EPOV as your reward ;) See you Sunday.**


	9. Chapter 7

Mary sat back in her seat, closing her eyes and rubbing her temples under her ever-present headset. As a 911 operator, she had to be calm, collected and in control in all situations. It made for a stressful working environment but she was the type of person who thrived under pressure; the panic of others sparking her need to fix. She tilted her head toward the ceiling and cracked her neck, taut from sitting in the same position for too long. Her headset began beeping, signalling an incoming call, and she moved forward to answer and type in the dispatch details if necessary.

"911, what's your emergency?"

"I need an ambulance, my Dad... he's fallen out of his wheelchair and there's so much blood everywhere. I don't know what to do, please..."

"Okay ma'am, I'm going to send out an ambulance. I have your address listed as 728 Caroline St., is that correct?"

"That's it. Please, you have to help me, I don't know what to do and he won't wake up."

Mary confirms the dispatch and tries to make out the woman's words, punctuated as they are by her sobs and rasping breaths.

"Ma'am, I need you to try and calm down for me. Is your father breathing?"

"I can't tell, he's face-down on the floor and covered in blood," Mary hears the woman's voice break off into a wail, filled with despair and hurt. She tries to speak but is distracted by the sound of the woman's whispering. "Oh god, wake up Billy, please. I really need you to wake up okay? I love you. I'm so sorry I wasn't here, I promise I'll be better now."

Mary swallows the lump in her throat, steeling herself to help this poor girl as much as possible. "Ma'am, I need for you to calm down so I can give you some instructions. What's your name?"

"Bella," the woman says voice shaky and hoarse.

"Okay, Bella, I need you to roll your Dad onto his back for me so you can see if he's breathing. Can you do that?"

Mary listens as Bella answers that she can, hearing the woman huff from the exertion of trying to roll the man over onto his back.

"Oh god, his whole face is covered in blood. How do I tell if he's breathing?"

"Check to see if his chest is rising and falling or put your ear to his mouth, see if you can hear or feel his breaths."

Mary waits for her response but her gut feeling isn't good. Blood on the face means he's bleeding from his head – in the quantities Bella's described, that's not a good sign.

"Bella, the paramedics should be there any second now. Is the door open for them?"

"It's, no it's not. I'll go and unlock it. Is my Dad going to be okay? I mean... I know there's blood but you can stop that, right? The doctors can fix him?" the young woman asks, voice still thick with tears.

"Just focus on unlocking the door for the paramedics, Bella, they'll do everything they can for your father."

"I see the ambulance, it's here."

"Okay, Bella, I'm going to let you go now. Let the paramedics do their job, okay?"

"Okay... and thank you."

Mary ends the call, wiping away the stray tears on her cheeks. She rarely gets upset over calls – tampering down her compassionate nature is necessary when dealing with time-sensitive situations – but hearing Bella's pain-fraught voice has pulled at her heartstrings. She barely has time to finish her prayer for Bella and her father's wellbeing before the beeping is once again sounding through her headset.

* * *

BPOV

I sit on the beaten up couch in Edward's apartment a couple of hours later. After the ambulance arrived, I called Jake on the way to the hospital, only to be left alone in the waiting room covered in Billy's blood and my tears. Jake turned up pale-faced and trembling at the same time the weary looking Doctor did, one with fear written across his expression and the other with a well-practiced display of sympathy. I listened as the Doctor explained what had most likely happened – that Billy was so drunk he fell out of his wheelchair, hitting his head on the corner of the coffee table with enough force to fracture his skull and kill him. I nodded as he relayed his apologies that he couldn't do more before shifting my attention to Jake.

"Shit, Bells, what the fuck happened? I need to go home and call Aunt Sarah and the tribal council and a funeral director…" he stopped, shaking his head and swallowing. I knew this was as upset as I'd see him – it wasn't in Jake's nature to show emotion or let himself be comforted, even at times like these. I was about to step forward, to do something other than sit silent when he spoke again.

"We should get out of here; I can't stand in a hospital while my father's dead. We need to get out of here, okay?" He didn't wait for an answer but instead moved toward the door while I dazedly stood up and followed, running into his back when he stopped just short of the threshold. "Bell… there's someone in my car. We, we were out and I was just so focused on getting here that I didn't think. Goddammit, this is all so fucked-up! I…Do you want me to call Sam or someone to get you? He… He'd do it, I can just call and you'll be home before you know it."

I choked down the bile blocking my windpipe as I shook my head, desperately trying to process what the fuck was going on. Leah. He was out with _Leah _while _I_ was clawing at his father's cold corpse. It's all too much for my melancholy-addled brain to process - I just need to get out of this hospital and as far away from the house as possible. I could see Billy's dead body behind my eyelids with every blink; going back to where he'd lay in a pool of his own blood would push me over an edge I was holding onto by only the frayed skin of my fingertips. I needed to get away from this whole mess. I needed Edward.

Edward hadn't faltered or failed me once since he'd answered the phone. He'd arrived at the hospital ten minutes after Jake had left, his jaw clenched but his eyes soft, arms open when I got within reach. He strapped a helmet on to my head and wrapped my arms around his waist, taking us back to his apartment where he led me to the shower and left me to scrub off the sticky, syrupy layer of blood covering my arms and hands. He helped me redress in some of his clothes when I got out, pulling the sweater over my head and kneeling to put my legs into the sweatpants like I was a child. I felt like a child in a way that I hadn't for years – I prided myself on being independent and strong but something about the way Edward held me, gently handling me the way you would an infant, was more than I could take. Grief covered me like a gauzy blanket, leaving me cold with my skin itching. It blurred the edges of my vision until I could feel tear tracks becoming rivers on my cheeks, my body jerking and lurching forward with the strength of my sobs. I felt rubbed raw, my skin peeling away from my body and cracking like dry earth until I lay exposed and broken. I rasped and wailed and howled out the pain coursing through every vein of my body, mainlining straight to my heart, and through it all Edward was my constant. His arms surrounded me in strength even as my weak body collapsed in on itself. I cried until my eyes were raw and my throat hoarse and then when I had no more to give I gave myself over to Edward, letting the waves of his humming guide me into a deep and dreamless sleep.

* * *

When I woke up what felt like minutes later, it was to sunlight streaming through the blinds and Edward sat on the side of the bed stroking my hair. He smiled as I reached for my hand with his own, holding on tight enough to reassure me that he was here – that despite the gut-wrenching memories of last night assaulting my brain, he would still be here. He played with my fingers for a moment before speaking.

"I wasn't sure what to make you to eat… some soup, toast maybe? I don't have much here but I can go out to get anything you wa-"

"I don't want anything, thanks. Food is the last thing on my mind right now," I interrupted, feeling my stomach churn at the thought.

"You have to eat, Bella, you've been asleep for over 12 hours. I'm not asking for anything heavy, just something small."

I rolled over away from him, taking my hand from his as I went. I buried my face in the pillow, burrowing further as I felt Edward's hand rubbing the back of my neck. He moved his hand down my body, rubbing small circles along the sore muscles of my back.

"Lay with me?" I asked, voice muffled and shy.

"Of course, sweetheart," he replied, lifting the covers and sliding next to me. I tugged on his arm until his body was over mine, caging and covering me from the hurt I felt. He laid a small kiss to my shoulder as I dozed; refusing to let any thoughts of Jake or of Billy take my moment of peace away.

When I woke up a second time, it was to find Edward gone from the bed. I moved over until I lay on my back, listening to the sounds coming from outside Edward's apartment. I rested until I heard the bedroom door opening, watching as Edward walking in with a food-laden tray.

"Now, you know I can't cook a fucking thing, but I can manage some scrambled eggs just about," he said, smiling in my direction as he set the tray down on the floor next to his bed.

I didn't say anything but instead shook my head, lifting my arms and body uselessly as I tried to move from my prone position. Edward pursed his lips but put his warm hands around my biceps to help me sit up. I rested my head against his chest and took a deep breath, only for it to be puffed out sharply at his next words.

"What about coffee? No milk or anything that'll make you ill," he said in a soft, pleading tone – a contrast to his stiff body and hard eyes.

"Will you fucking drop it? I just lost the closest thing to a father I had left; I don't want to discuss breakfast options with you. Jesus," I bit out, feeling Edward stiffen even further and watching lines form around his mouth as he chewed on the skin of his lower lip. It was a few minutes later that he spoke, voice deceptively even while his eyes let me know just how close he was to losing it.

"Why are being like this, Bella? I don't know what you want from me. I'm trying to take care of you. Let me or don't let me but don't give me shit for making the effort your fiancé wouldn't," he paused suddenly, inhaling as though trying to take the words back in to his mouth. Too late.

"That's just what I needed a reminder of, Edward, thank you! Twist the knife a bit further, hm? Does it seem like I need you to lay out details of my failed relationship right now?"

"Oh, will you stop being such a fucking drama queen? I am trying to be here in any way I can but you being over dramatic about the smallest thing I say isn't making my job easy," he grit out through clenched teeth, practically snarling at me. I watched as he closed his eyes, fear and resentment boiling inside my stomach like a pressure cooker. And then I watched as he opened his eyes, remorse and a hint of sadness etched into his face like a carving but it was too late for apologies; the vitriol inside me was too far gone, exploding out of my mouth before I could stop it.

"Dramatic? You know NOTHING about me being dramatic. I'm sat here like a harbinger of death and you have the gall to call me dramatic for not wanting to eat? Try having both your father figures die within 10 years of each other and see how you feel."

"A harbinger of death? Bella, what the fuck? You had nothing to do with either of their deaths and you know it," Edward tried to reason, reaching with the tips of his fingers to graze my arm until I pulled back.

"Death follows me, Edward. It followed me from Charlie to Billy. Maybe Jake did well to get out while he still could, maybe you should do the same," I breathed deep, ready to say more, when Edward stood from the bed and loomed over me with fists clenched and chest heaving.

"Do not say shit like that, do you hear me? I know you're upset but you're being fucking ridiculous right now," he shook his head and averted his eyes. I was too hyped up to quit now, too sad to concede.

"What would you know about it, anyway? You're not the one with some curse on them, destined to bring about the end of everyone you get close to. You wouldn't know," I said, my voice getting quieter and softer with every word. My anger had left and I felt like a helium balloon left in a corner, deflated and limp, but Edward wasn't done.

"I wouldn't know, Bella, you're right. Because death can't follow you if you're the one who brings it."

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**A/N: So, there's the answer on how Billy died. Nothing as nefarious as some of you were thinking - Edward murdering him would have taken this in a waaay different direction! As for the ending, what do you think Edward could mean? Hm..**


	10. Chapter 8

**A/N: Thanks for the reviews last chapter! I know Bella's behaviour annoyed a few people, but grief makes you do out of character things. Hope you enjoy!**

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"I don't... What are you saying, Edward?" I ask, swallowing down the bile burning an acid trail up my throat. My mind was spinning in loose circles, my pulse thumping inside my skull.

Edward's pale face falls as I speak, his eyes scrunching until they're merely slits; lips pursing so hard they're fully white. "Bell… not now, okay? I promise, I will tell you and if you don't want to be here anymore that's okay but I can't right now. Not when I'm this angry. Please," he says, all tightly-clenched fists and even tighter jaw.

I suck in some air, feeling paralysed by the cement sitting in my airway. I knew Edward had been in prison, he'd told me as much when he mentioned having to meet with his parole officer. I was naïve, probably, but I assumed it was something minor that he was there for. To hear him refer to himself as a killer caused the muscles in my stomach to spasm until I could do nothing but wrap my arms around myself and try to remember to breathe. I feel like I can't even process what he's just admitted – the Edward I know is rough around the edges, overly defensive for sure, but he's above all else a good, honest man. I'm struggling to assimilate the Edward I know with someone who could ever cause fatal harm to another person. As I look to him, surveying his hunched form and glassy eyes I'm torn. His expression begs me to let this go but I don't know if I can. I'm not frightened of Edward – he would never hurt me and I know it - on the other hand I am frightened that there's a side of him I won't be able to get past. I knew he was secretive and cagey about what happened in Chicago and I knew it wasn't pleasant based on his reluctance to speak of it, but this is a level of uncertainty I wasn't prepared to deal with. I feel like I'm trying to escape from quicksand, my efforts to pull myself out only ensuring I'm stuck in further. Edward reaches one hand to me and then takes it back when I do nothing but look at him, a tear finally rolling down his coarse cheek and pooling at the edge of scar tissue there.

"Please, Bella, I can't… I can't lose you. I swear I'll tell you everything, answer all your questions, whatever you want. Right now I just need to hold you. You know me, you know who I am. Please don't lose sight of that," he pleads with me. The desperation running through his voice makes my heart ache and I can do nothing but open my arms to him. The faith Edward has shown me deserves to be repaid and I refuse to believe the broken man before me would be capable of killing anyone in cold blood. He practically collapses forward into my embrace, his strong arms wrapping around my ribs and covering me with warmth from the inside out. "I promise, Bella, it wasn't how you think. I didn't…" he trails off but I know what he wants to say and hug him tighter. I move the thoughts of his past out of my head and instead focus on letting my body wrap around his.

We eventually end up lying down, staring at each other in the dim lighting of the room. I'm lost in the events of the past day, the anger and hurt pooling with the comfort of Edward's presence. Grief sits above all else, gnawing at my brain as a constant reminder. I am pulled taut and underprepared, my mind flitting between Billy, Jake, Edward and myself until I can barely make sense of anything. I feel like I've fallen into a world without light; blind and astray. I stare at the peeling wallpaper opposite me and struggle to see how my life will ever be normal again. I think of Billy, of his body lying on the floor. I think of the pity on the paramedics faces as I rode in the ambulance and made a frantic phone call to Jake. I close my eyes as the onslaught of images comes. "I can't believe Billy's gone. It seems so surreal to think that he's dead," I say, the words feeling sour in my mouth. Edward doesn't reply but instead holds me tighter, resting his forehead against mine. "I'm just so angry. He died for no reason other than that he was drunk out of his head. I wish we would have gotten him some help, done something…" I can't put into words how full of regret I feel, how furious I am at the injustice of it all. Sadness overwhelms me as I think of how unhappy he was for the majority of his time, coasting through life one beer bottle at a time in an effort to chase the loneliness and hurt away. He was desperately miserable, his heart never healing from Rachel's death. I knew it and I saw it but let it continue because I didn't know what else there was for him; didn't know how to soothe the pain that ravaged his insides until he was ash. I swallow as I think of days spent hiding alcohol, nights of listening to him cry. It wasn't always bleak, but the man I knew was a shadow of the man my Dad told stories of. As I contemplate his wasted life, there is another feeling sitting in my stomach and filling me with shame, though I hope refusing to voice it will make it recede. It doesn't, though, instead growing and growing until I feel as though I can't keep it inside of me for any longer. I cuddle further into Edward until his body is a barrier between me and the outside world, moving my head into the space where my secrets are safe. "I feel… I feel relief," I whisper, not strong enough to say the words too loud. "Not that he's dead, never for that. But that… that he isn't so sad anymore, that he doesn't wake up feeling like the left behind half of a whole every morning. I feel relief and it hurts. It really hurts, Edward, and I can't stop it," I say, breaking off into sobs. They're soundless, coming from deep within my spine and bursting outwards until my body shakes from their force. I'm powerless to stop them, balling up my fists and letting my body work out the turmoil inside of me.

"Oh Bella. It's okay, shhh. You're not a bad person, baby, never. It's not bad to want someone you love to stop being unhappy," he says, holding me ever tighter. "What happened was terrible and sad, but it's okay to admit how you feel. Never be ashamed of it, not with me." He strokes my hair as I continue to cry, feeling my frustration and anguish ebb out with my tears. I cry until my eyes feel swollen and raw, I cry even when it feels like I won't ever stop. I cry for hours until I can cry no more and Edward is coaxing me to sleep. He kisses my forehead and shifts until I am resting on him, safe in the knowledge he will always be there to hold me. Before I give over to the exhaustion plaguing every part of me I acknowledge that somehow, things will be okay again.

I feel lost in a world of darkness, but Edward will be the light that brings me home.

* * *

I wake up still resting on Edward's chest, letting the rising and falling gently rock me. I feel strange, not happy nor sad but just… there. I know rationally that the pain and hurt from Billy's death wouldn't fade any time soon but it seemed that after only a day it's already a part of me; a secret section of my mind cordoned off for mourning. I allowed the mix of emotions to play out on their own without trying to control them one way or another. It seemed for so many years I contained how I felt – hurt from Jake's behaviour, anger from Charlie's death – and it was now all being unleashed in a torrent so strong I didn't know if or when it would end. Battling among those feelings is the fear over Edward's semi-revelation yesterday but my lingering memory of him in front of me, brought to his knees by the possibility of me shunning him means I push it back. Seeing him pleading with me to understand isn't a sight I ever want to experience again. When I think back on all he's done and all he's doing I know I can afford him some time. Not much, but some. I've no doubt that there was a reason, just _something _to have caused it. It's an awful thing to say; he's still killed someone ultimately but my heart tells me to trust him. I shake my head as I turn to face him, gratitude spreading warm throughout my sternum. His brow is furrowed even in sleep, his mouth still pulled tight. I frown as I think of my behaviour yesterday – I have no excuses except the grief inside of me but it doesn't change that Edward didn't deserve it. I move forward, nuzzling his neck before pulling away to go to the bathroom. When I return to find Edward still asleep I decide to make him breakfast as a small thank you for his help.

Edward wasn't exaggerating when he said there wasn't much food here but I manage to find enough to make an omelette. I'm just about to portion and serve it when Edward walks in, shirtless and squinting from the bright light of the room. I freeze in place, the frying pan handle in one hand and a spatula extended outwards in the other. Edward doesn't have a six pack or any of the unrealistic definition you see in movie stars but he does have a solid form, bulky and toned; arms rippling with muscle as he pulls out 2 chairs from the table. I admire his broad body dotted with freckles and light dustings of hair, the barbed wire tattoo I'd seen before running from the base of his scar to sit slightly to the left of his breastbone directly over his heart. I search his body for other tattoos, finding a phoenix beneath his right shoulder blade as he turns to set the table. I see some script on his hip but don't have time to look at it before he turns back around, smiling at me.

"You seem better today. What bought this on?" He asks, voice soft.

"I just wanted to say thank you for coming to get me, for letting me stay here… I wanted to apologise for how I spoke to you yesterday, too. It wasn't fair and I'm really sorry, Edward," I say, my face crumpling in remorse. Edward's smile drops as he moves forward to embrace me.

"I get it, Bella. I'm the easiest person to take shit out on right now. Doesn't mean it doesn't piss me off though, who knew you could be such a brat?" he says, winking as I laugh. "Besides, if you're gonna cook for me whenever you throw a tantrum then by all means, feel free to throw 'em more often," he teases as I swat at him with the spatula.

"Are you working today?" I ask as I take a seat, knowing he couldn't go in yesterday because he was busy with me.

"I uh, I took the next couple of days off. I've covered for a few of the other guys so I'm owed the time," he replies nonchalantly. I nudge him with my foot under the table – we both know it's a bigger deal than he's making it out to be, but the look he gives in return to smile makes it seem like nothing at all.

"I should probably drop by the diner and tell my boss I won't be in," I say worriedly. I didn't even think to call yesterday and while news of what happened probably will have got back to him, I still feel I should at least let him know personally.

"Might not be a bad idea. Want me to come with you? Nothing else to do."

"Well, seeing as you sound so enthusiastic that'll be a no," I reply laughing, before sobering up. "I was going to go down to the house, too… pick up some stuff, get my truck. Jake will probably be there but I have my keys anyway."

"Then I'm definitely coming with you. No chance I'm letting you near that asshole on your own. Plus I'd better make sure you don't run off after what I let out of the bag yesterday," Edward jokes, but there's a definite waver in his voice that sounds so out of place. I glance up to see him biting his cheek and drumming the fingers of one hand against the palm of the other.

"Edward…" I say, before stopping. I want to say something but nothing's coming out. I'd be lying if I told him I didn't want –need – to know.

"I promised I'd tell you and I don't go back on my promises. Just let's get seeing that dick out of the way first or else I might explode from anger," he offers as weak smile as he speaks and I do the same in return, extending my hand to sit atop both of his.

His head snaps up to mine as I muster my courage and strength. "Just so you know it won't… it won't change anything. I know you and I know who you are. You will always be the man who saved me and I will always be grateful."

He closes his teary eyes, lifting my hand to his mouth and laying a soft, solitary kiss to my palm.

* * *

I ignore the sympathetic stares as I walk into the diner, heading straight for the back. Edward follows me, though he doesn't ignore the stares as much as he just stares back until they look away. I find Danny in his 'office' which is really a sweatbox off the side of the kitchen with a desk covered in papers and old plates of food. I knock on the door and poke my head in, coughing as the smell of smoke hits me.

"About time you showed up," Danny says between drags of the cigarette hanging from his lips, standing up lazily from his chair.

"I… I thought you would have heard about what happened," I respond, feeling confused. If the customers know, surely he would too.

"I heard, doesn't mean it was any easier to cover your shift considering you gave me no call to say you'd be out."

I recoil slightly in disbelief, hitting into the door behind me. "I had other things on my mind, obviously, considering Billy had just died. Sorry if it left you in the lurch but my first thought wasn't exactly to call in sick."

"Well, you'll just have to pull a double today instead. It's a shitty situation but I need workers, Jess is swamped here on her own," he says, shrugging.

"Actually, Jess is outside on her cell phone as usual," I bite back, angry. I can't believe this.

"Are you working or not? Because if you're not then I'm going to have to offer your job to someone who can work whenever…" he doesn't bother finishing his sentence, knowing the threat has already been made clear.

I feel Edward pulling at my arm. "Let me talk to him, Bella," he says, giving me a reassuring smile that doesn't match his hard eyes. Normally I'd disagree – I don't need a man to fight battles with my boss for me – but I'm so dumbfounded and pissed off that I'm failing to formulate a sentence, so I step to the side as Edward's body completely fills Danny's office. Edward only has to take one step before he is face-to-face with Danny, though given the height difference it's more like face-to-chest. Edward leans down slightly before he speaks, causing Danny to lean back, arms holding onto his chair. It'd be comical if Edward didn't look so frightening.

"What you're doing is a pretty crappy thing, buddy. Bella is the best waitress you've got in this shithole and you know it. Now, seeing as her father has just died, it'd be right of you to let her have a few days off to cope with it all, don't you think?" Edward asks, leaning increasingly forward until Danny is fully sitting down in his chair and he's towering over him like a guard. My guard.

"I don't respond well to threats," Danny says, though the statement is at odds with the way he's practically cowering in his chair.

"I don't respond well to people threatening Bella but you just did, so deal with it," Edward fires back quickly.

"3 days not including today to sort everything out and then I want you back here. Got that?" Danny says, facing me. Edward turns his body towards mine and raises an eyebrow.

"I've got it, Danny, thank you," I say insincerely. I refuse to be too snarky, though, considering I do want to keep my job for the time being. I practically have to drag Edward from the room, tugging on his hand until he relaxes it and melds it around my own.

"Don't know why you wouldn't just quit this shit hole." he grumbles as we walk out, still hand in hand.

"I want to use the money I have in savings for school, there's no point squandering it by not working. Besides, it'll be good to have a routine and well, you know," I say before the lump in my throat can take hold. I squeeze Edward's hand as I begin to laugh, "Anyway, if I were to quit my job then who would you threaten?"

He tries to fight the smile but it breaks wide and bright across his face as he laughs. "Protecting you is like a full time job, I swear it. Speaking of which, are you ready to go get your stuff?"

I take a deep breath as we reach Edward's bike, waiting for him to put on my helmet for me as he refuses to let me do it myself. "As I'll ever be," I reply, trying not to let it get to me.

That all falls down when I get to the outside of the house, tears already forming at the memories I have of Billy and of being here. I cling to Edward like a life raft as he helps me off the bike, removing my helmet and offering to start up my truck for me. I pass him the keys as I move toward the door, opening it and wincing as the mental images from the other night begin to hit me. I force myself to walk on to mine and Jake's bedroom, my breath coming in a rush when I see everything's already been boxed. My clothes, trinkets, books – everything has been packed up. I hear footsteps in the hall just as indignation begins to set in.

"Bella" Jake exhales as he steps into the doorframe, looking exhausted.

"You packed up my stuff?" I say, trying to remain calm. "It wasn't your right, Jacob."

"It wasn't me, I didn't even know it was happening. I came back from organising some things with the council to find it like that," he says, gesturing helplessly with his hands in front of him. That means that it had to have been Leah who packed up everything of mine. Classy. "Look, Bella, I'm sorry… I didn't know-"

"It's done now, Jake," I interrupt. "I don't want to argue. As far as I'm concerned, after Billy's funeral is done then we're through. Don't call me or contact me. I… it may seem cold but I just can't go there with you, not if I'm going to get through this."

He says nothing but instead nods, tears welling up in his eyes. I don't doubt that in his own way Jake loves me and it will be difficult for us both to cut ties like this, but I meant what I said. There's no conceivable way I can get my life back if I'm carrying around so much anger toward him. It's easier just to wash my hands of it. I feel a pang of guilt knowing it's not what Billy would have wanted yet I feel like I have no other choices. It has to be this way.

"Edward's outside. I'm going to get him to help me pack all of this up and then I'll take it in the truck. There shouldn't be a need to come back."

Jake's face twists but he doesn't voice his frustration immediately. "I could help, if you want?" he half offers, half questions.

"No thanks, Jake. I have Edward now." I reply before walking back outside, letting the truth of my statement seep into my bones.

* * *

Edward's apartment looks like a city of boxes when we're finished, my belongings stacked and stuffed anywhere there's space. We sit down with a take-out dinner, awkwardness tinging the edges of our polite conversation. The atmosphere feels tense and stilted and it makes me uncomfortable – aside from the first time we spoke, I've rarely felt that with Edward at all. His promise to explain everything to me tonight seems to be weighing heavily on both of our shoulders, judging by the way he bounces his leg up and down and picks at his food. Finally he sits forward in his seat, huffing out a sigh.

"I was in an adult prison for 7 years from the age of 15 for the voluntary manslaughter of my father."

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**A/N: I know, I know, another cliffie. In my defence, this would've been too long with the explanation too. Next chapter should be up in a few days.**


	11. EPOV Chapter 9

**A/N: I don't have words to convey how nervous I am about this chapter. Thank you for all the wonderful support, I hope it lives up to expectations.**

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EPOV

"I was in an adult prison for 7 years from the age of 15 for the voluntary manslaughter of my father."

I watch as Bella's eyes bulge, her breath coming out in one harsh puff of air. She blinks fast, her eyelashes fluttering against her cheek like butterfly wings. Her face pales and she grips tightly onto the ends of her sleeves. I've been dreading this moment since it became obvious Bella and I would be friends. Even from our first meeting where she reminisced about her father, it was obvious the love she had for him hadn't been tempered by his death. I remember sitting in that stained booth and feeling envy eat me up from the inside out – in prison, no-one spoke about their family and if they did it was never in positive terms, but Bella's glowing face sparked my jealousy and my anger. As a teenage boy surrounded by adult criminals, they tried to get all sorts of shrinks to talk to me about how I felt using confusing words and bullshit analogies, but at the base of it all I'm filled with more rage than I can contain and I have been for a long time. It bubbled over one day and I took the life of my father. I've paid for that every day since, though nothing has felt as much like retribution as watching Bella struggle to keep her face even right now. Telling someone who's lost the two fathers they've known that I willingly killed my own is about as close to penance as I'm going to get, but having that person be Bella makes it feel more like purgatory. I shift on my seat, trying to shake off the discomfort covering me like a second skin, but Bella's reactive flinch makes my stomach seize and then free fall.

"My Dad was a cardiac surgeon. Big money, big reputation, big pressure. My Mother and he met when he was still in medical school and got married before his residency. I was an accident, the baby they had 10 years too early. My Dad was rarely around as I was growing up, busy trying to make a name for himself. He and my Mother fought a lot, and I remember nights where she'd crawl into my bed with me and cry, clinging to my back like I was the parent and she was the child. I don't know when he started hitting her but I remember seeing it for the first time when I was 9. After that the bruises and cuts she had weren't easily blamed on her clumsiness anymore. She'd tell me that I had to learn to be a good man, to know women were meant to be cherished and protected and I used to get so angry, because she was a woman but who was protecting her? We'd read stories at bedtime about princes saving their princess and I'd tell her to hold on just a little longer because hers was bound to come soon," my voice gets rough and I clear my throat, holding back the hurt clawing at my windpipe. "I didn't start trying to intervene until I was 11 and she was pregnant with my sister. She'd tell me not to get involved but how could I not, Bella? Everything she'd ever taught me went against everything I witnessed in that house and I couldn't take it, sitting listening to her cry while I was curled in my bed. So I stood up to him, let his punches hit me instead of her. I'd take whatever he had to give then I'd help my mother off the floor, telling her love wasn't supposed to hurt like this."

"She didn't leave?" Bella asks, her eyes watery.

"He made it so she couldn't. He was perfect on the outside – this successful, compassionate man who only turned into a monster when he was at home. She had no money and children to take care of, she did what she thought was best," I tell her. I believe it, still, even after everything. I know the position she was in was impossible and I don't place any blame with her. She was broken down and beaten up until there was nothing but the shell of her left; trusting her love to guide her. There's no fault in that.

"Claire, my sister, she was born when I was 12. My Dad was happy after that, bringing all his colleagues over to see the baby and telling them all about my spot on the baseball team. I'd never seen my mother happier, wrapping herself up in the affection he provided until she was convinced things had changed. We'd act like a family finally, all she wanted all along. I began to open my heart to my Dad again, watching games with him and feeling something other than fear when he'd touch me or my mother. He doted on Claire, constantly holding her whenever he was home. She was beautiful, all blonde hair and blue eyes just like my Mother. Things were fine for maybe a year, lulling us into believing our hopes were being realised – that my Dad was finally turning into someone worthy of his title. I fell for it completely, so desperate for his approval by then that he won me over easily. I was so fucking stupid," I spit, shaking my head. "I let him back around my family and he played me the whole time."

Bella moves toward me slightly, her hand reaching tentatively toward mine. I let it sit there for a minute to see if she'll move it back but when she doesn't I grasp it between my own; inhaling sharply as she squeezes back. "You were a child, Edward, you couldn't have done anything," she says. The words are meant to soothe but instead they rile, feeding into the anger at my own inaction that I can't shake.

"Nothing I could have done? How about told someone, anyone? How about not believing his bullshit? I was a teenage boy and my Mother was helpless. I told her I'd keep her safe from him and I failed. Claire…" I choke on the bile that clogs my throat when I think of my poor baby sister, so oblivious to it all. "Claire would probably still be alive if I'd have just done something to stop him." I try to breathe but can't, my chest tighter than ever before. I've taken beatings from many people, been broken emotionally and physically, but I don't think anything has hurt as much as having to show Bella how badly I failed my family. I allow myself more than a fleeting thought toward my baby sister for the first time in years and let out a pained grunt as my body buckles under memories of her smile or the way she'd giggle in her sleep. Mom often said I had a way with her unlike any other big brother she'd seen before; that I had a natural gentleness and love for Claire that filled her heart with happiness she sorely needed. I try to sit stoic as Bella squeezes my hand but it's too much. My years in prison have done nothing to dampen the anger I feel over everything that happened and I stand from the couch before I can grip Bella too hard in my livid haze. I move toward the window, gripping the jutting sill with my hands and forcing the words out.

"We had a pool in the garden that Claire used to love swimming in, she was a real water baby. She could swim well, for a toddler, but she knew she had to stick to the shallow end and have her armbands on at all times just in case. She hated them and would throw them off if you turned your back for a second so my Mom and I would sit out there with her, coaxing her to keep them on so she could stay in the pool. She'd throw these adorable tantrums about it but Mom was resolute, always concerned over her safety. This was in the summer, the only time it was hot enough to actually use the pool. Dad had some big surgery coming up and wasn't home a lot – when he was, it wasn't happy. Anyway, one day we were out there with Claire and heard him come home. Mom realised she hadn't prepared anything for dinner given that we'd been outside all day and went upstairs to start on it. I was playing with Claire when I heard her scream from inside the house. I told Claire to stay in the shallow end and went inside." I try to continue but can't, the regret blooming from deep inside and stealing my words. I grit my teeth against the mental images that flood my mind; my mother on the floor as my father towered over her. "She saw me walk in and begged me to leave, cried as my further turned toward me. He didn't get much further than shouting at me. My mother played her trump card, though, telling me I'd leave if I loved her." I wipe away the tears that always seem to come when I think of her face and how she pleaded.

"I uh…, I went back out, only to see Claire gone from the pool. I was running back around the patio to find her when I tripped over one of her stupid Minnie Mouse armbands." I curse as I feel more tears burning my eyes. I haven't thought about this in years. I remember the dread that overtook my body when I realised what I had stood on, the fear that caused my heart to clench. I remember moving toward the pool, only to see Claire's small body floating face-down in the water. My screams must have been enough to grab even my Dad's attention because he ran out, his face paling and eyes widening as he took in the scene before him: me wailing as I pulled Claire from the pool and her limp body as it dragged across the cement. My mother came out a minute later, her face bloodied and swollen, falling to the ground as she saw Claire. She shouted at my father for the first time in my life and probably hers too, telling him to fix it, to help Claire. I close my eyes and press my knuckles into the jagged wood of the ledge until the pain there overwhelms the pain in my head.

"She must've taken off her armbands almost as soon as my back was turned. They thought she went into the deep end and drowned, the water being too much for her."

I hear the shifting of couch springs as Bella stands and moments later, her arms are wrapping around my waist. I bow my head, ashamed of the tears that I can't stop. I hold in a sob, but eventually it bursts forth, an anguish-filled whimper accompanying it. Bella's arm squeeze tighter than I would have thought possible. I steel myself, knowing there's more to come.

"My Dad was relentless after the dust settled. He was crueller than I'd ever seen him, blaming my Mom and me for what had happened to Claire even though it was an accident at best, his fault at worst. Things weren't physical, but his words hurt more than any punch could have. My mother was shattered and lost to me, so I took care of myself, going to school and getting into fights to try to get rid of some of the hurt that filled my body. I'd listen to my father's words night after night, letting them fuel my anger like gasoline on a flame. Mom was worse than ever but I told her it'd be okay, that we'd get out soon. She'd spend evenings sobbing as I told her of the life we'd have together and how things would be so much better when we'd get away. 6 months after Claire's death, she was finally showing signs of beginning to recover from Claire's death. She told me enough was enough and I cried, so happy at the thought of not being under his rule anymore. It was a couple of months after that when my life imploded. My father had apparently found some money my Mom had been saving to get us out and went crazy. Usually he'd stop hitting her if I provoked him, but this time he wouldn't. He just kept on even as I started punching him, begging him to hit me instead. He only stopped to backhand me, knocking me to the floor. By this point my mother was barely conscious, but as I lay there on the cold tile she reached her hand out to me and caressed my face. It was then I knew this had to end once and for all."

Bella lays her face against my back, dampening my shirt from the tears all over her cheeks. I move one hand to rest atop hers on my stomach, needing the support. Reliving this has hurt in ways I couldn't comprehend, the shame of my inadequacy itching at my skin. There was so much I could have done and I failed at every turn, until the final one.

"I remember dragging my body up off the kitchen floor and stumbling across to the counter, picking up the biggest knife I could find in the drawer and moving toward my father. I thought of Claire and of the life she'd never get to live. I thought of every time I'd seen my mother cry, bruised and broken. He wouldn't ever let us leave. I stabbed him as I sobbed, the first slice catching him off guard. I remember the knife being tougher to control than I thought, my teenage muscles struggling to pull it back. Then I realised what I'd done and what he'd do as a result and the adrenaline and hate coursing through me made it easier to plunge the knife back into his back, not stopping until he and I both lay in a pool of his blood. My mother was still too hazy to speak or move, so I moved toward her and lay on my side, cradling her head against my chest. I knew I'd have to call the police eventually, and I knew there was a good chance my life was over. I'd saved hers though, and that was enough. It's still enough."

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**A/N: No words, after that. Please let me know what you thought.**


	12. Chapter 10

**A/N: Thank you for all for the wonderful feedback on the last chapter. I know a lot of people were confused by Edward's sentence, but hopefully it'll become clearer after this.**

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I cling to Edward, feeling his body shake with sobs he can't hold back any longer. My heart feels cracked open in the wake of his revelations; every part of me aching to heal and soothe. I told him that learning the reason behind his incarceration wouldn't change anything, though I can't help but feel I lied. It's changed everything. He's an even stronger man than I thought, better than I could have imagined. Maybe in the eyes of the law he committed a crime – he took a life, however evil the person – but I find it hard to see him as anything other than a scared young boy who loved his mother and sister. I feel an unbearable sadness right through to my core thinking of the guilt he obviously harbours over things beyond his control. Right now he reminds me of Atlas; shoulders hunched and head bowed by the weight he carries. My hands clamour to comfort, running over his waist as my fingers rub circles onto tensed flesh. I curse my own useless tears as I pull him by the elbow to turn him around. He resists, sniffling and gulping stunted breaths of air, but I refuse to relent. He eventually turns; face still toward the floor with those world-weary shoulders slumped. I raise a hand toward his chin, tilting it upwards until he looks at me. His eyes are defeated and reddened with his anguish and I can barely look, feeling a pang of grief at the pit of my spine. I move forward and press my lips softly to his jaw. His whole body shudders as I make contact over and over, cocooning him in my warmth and care.

"You are the best man I know, Edward, and I only wish you could see it as clearly as I do."

I stumble backward as his strong arms settle somewhere around the top of my ribs, practically lifting me from the floor as he crushes my body toward him. He settles his tear-tarnished face in my hair, moisture peppering my scalp like the last drips of a summer shower. I listen as he tries to speak through his raspy throat, shushing him when he begins to stumble over words he doesn't have the energy to say. I gently pull him back toward the couch, pushing him down and settling in his lap. I straddle his thighs, the despair radiating from him slicing deep into my sternum. I lean forward until we're touching foreheads and sharing breaths; eyes wide as if to remember how the other looks splayed open. I move my hands so they're entwined with his, bringing them to rest on my lap. I have questions but they can wait until Edward is less fragile – seeing someone so strong crumble and collapse is heart-wrenching. Instead for now I am content to hold and be held, looking toward Edward with soft eyes as he begins to talk.

"I thought you'd be gone by now," he says, a slight laugh breaking through the lump in his throat. He blinks, looking at me through wet and clumped lashes.

"I wouldn't go and I still won't. What you did… that isn't anything for you to be ashamed of. No matter what anyone says, you saved your mother the only way you knew how. You are not to blame and you aren't at fault. Sometimes we're forced into corners and you were forced into an impossible one. There is no wrong in fighting back, even if it ended badly," I reply, desperately trying to console. Edward nods his head but we both know I'm fighting a losing battle; his guilt becoming concrete long before me. I look at his hands as they encompass mine, imagining how they looked holding the hands of his sister.

"For what it's worth, I think – I think Claire would be proud of you," I say, finally vocalizing something that's been circling in my mind, something I think Edward needs to hear. His eyebrows furrow and his Adam's apple bobs with the force of his swallow but he stays silent. "I think she and your mother would be proud of how you stood up for yourself. Just know that I am so proud of you. Know that you deserve happiness and you deserve love." I pause, licking my lips and trying to summon my courage to utter the next words fighting to be freed. My voice is shaky and hoarse but the words are steadfast. "Know that I want to give you those things, now more than ever."

Edward exhales at my words, his whole body sagging. I disentangle my hands from his and cradle his head against my chest; the protector becoming the protected.

* * *

A few hours later, Edward and I have moved to his bed. We lay facing each other, his arm resting over my middle. I run my hand up and down his arm, feeling the dips and bumps of muscle. His eyes are closed until I begin to trace the scar on his face with my index finger and then he opens them, blue-green fixed on my brown.

"It wasn't my Dad, if that's what you're thinking," he says quietly as I inhale. "It happened in prison. I was young and naïve, my only experience of that life coming from movies or TV shows. I got into a group with some of the younger guys there, doing all kinds of trades for contraband with the rest of the inmates. It went fine for a few months, before my closest friend in the group stole something I was meant to be trading. I tried telling the boss what'd happened but he thought I'd kept it for myself and got one of his little followers to warn me against doing it again with a toothbrush turned into a knife."

"He cut you?"

Edward scoffs, the sound bitter and angry. "That's the nicest term for what he did. I got moved to another cell block after that, at least."

I feel along the path of the scar, imagining how terrified Edward must have been in a prison with gangs of criminals as a teenager. The marred flesh on his face has become something I rarely notice anymore, just another feature. Up close though, it's hard to deny that it's brutal, the edges still jagged and raised. It stops in places, random breaks in the thick white scar tissue. I move downwards until I'm tracing the edges of the tattoo by his collarbone.

"That one was done pretty much as soon as I got out. It goes from the scar to my heart, a reminder everyone you love will hurt you eventually. I believed my Dad when he said he'd changed, I believed my mother when she told me she'd get us out, I believed the lawyer who told me I wouldn't go to prison and I believed James when he told me I could trust him, that we'd get through prison together. It was a way of showing on the outside how guarded I had to be on the inside. I've been in a bad place for a long time, Bella, you have to understand that. I don't know to make a woman happy, let alone one like you. I want to, though. You wouldn't find anyone who'd try harder than I would to treat you good. This," he says, bringing my hand back up to rest on the barbed wire ink across his chest, "it's not how I want to be anymore. You crept in without me realising and I'm scared shitless. I'm terrified of what you might do. I don't know how to love without it hurting; don't know love without pain and fear and disappointment."

I feel tears blurring my vision and blink, letting them roll down my cheek into the pillow as I move forward to lay my head over where Edward's tattoo ends, directly above his heart.

"Just this, Edward. This is enough." I whisper, rubbing my hands up and down his chest. He breathes deeply, his stomach muscles tensing and releasing with the movement. I catch sight of the ink on his side as his t-shirt rides up, moving closer to read it. _People die, but love endures_ is written across the plain of his hip, Claire's name and birth date written below. What causes my breath to stutter and stop is the date next to it, the day of her death emblazoned across his skin. Though Edward had mentioned she was only a toddler when she died, seeing the 2 year difference in the dates causes my stomach to twist painfully before anger fills it.

"Why did you go to prison, Edward? I don't understand. You were just protecting your mother," I ask, the injustice of his situation sitting like a rock over my trachea. Edward inhales sharply, clenching his eyes shut until they're little more than slits.

"I knew what I was doing. I knew as soon as I went looking for that knife that he wasn't going to leave that room alive. I was a 15 year old punk who fought at school and got mediocre grades. He was a heart surgeon with a seemingly perfect family who'd just lost his daughter. The prosecutors claimed he was under stress from work and from my sister dying. It made me sick, not the having to describe what I'd done or the years of shit we'd been put through, but listening to some self-righteous lawyer tell people my Dad was so cut up over Claire that he lost it one day in an isolated incident, that I'd decided to stab him because I craved violence." Edward stops, shaking his head and grimacing. "We couldn't prove that he was trying to kill my mother, we couldn't prove that he'd abused us for years. There was no evidence because we hadn't told anybody what was happening. The worst part was when my mother testified, stood and swore on a bible that she'd been beaten for years. She got ripped apart in the cross-examination, they asked all sorts of questions about why she hadn't come forward and why she'd let her children suffer if it was true." I move my hand forward, rubbing the side of Edward's clenched jaw. He takes a deep breath and balls his fist before continuing.

"I had to watch as they said she was lying; trying to stop the one child she had left from going to prison. I watched as she cried and took what they threw at her. It was the same as years of watching my Dad take chunks out of her. I told the lawyer we hired that I'd rather take the punishment they gave me than have her be treated like that. Based on the attack on my mother the day I killed him, they were able to show I was acting in her defence but it was still ruled as disproportionate. I was just so sick of it all, Bella. My lawyers plead down to voluntary manslaughter and I got 7 years because of the circumstances that caused it."

I swallow once, twice, trying desperately to loosen the iron grip my throat seems to be in. I'm left reeling and raw. I can't shake the image of Edward in a court room, watching his mother be belittled and branded a liar after his efforts to ensure no-one would ever speak to her that way again.

"Where is your mother, Edward?"

"I don't know. She left Chicago, I know that much. She wrote me a letter when I was in prison telling me she had to get away and didn't know when she'd be able to write again. That was the last I heard from her," he says in a gritty tone, shrugging his shoulders as though it costs him nothing. One look at the stormy blue mist of his eyes tells me it did cost him dearly, though, and that it continues to now.

I press my body forward until it mirrors Edward's, lying flat on top of him with my face hovering inches above his. I lean down to pepper his skin with soft kisses, punctuating each one with an apology for what he faced, the demons he's still battling with. In the semi-darkness of the room, we lay in silence that speaks only of comfort and safety. I have always known I'm safe with Edward, but more importantly he knows I will always be a safe haven for him.

* * *

I wake up the next morning to an empty bed, Edward's side rumpled yet cold. I walk around in search of him but find no sign in the apartment, leaving me worried about where he could be. I tap my phone against my chin a couple of times, contemplating calling him before deciding he's likely just gone to get food. I take the opportunity to make a call that kept me awake much of last night. Dialling the number for Forks' police department, I wait for the receptionist to answer before asking for Mark. As I get put on hold, I breathe deep and try to convince myself I'm making the right decision. I only hope Edward sees it as such too.

"Mark? Hi, it's Bella Swan. I need a favour, a big one. I need you to help me find Esme Cullen."

After giving Mark the limited information I have, he promises to look into it for me. I'm asking him to do something he shouldn't and while I feel a faint sense of guilt, it's no more permanent than an incoming tide, washed away by the image of Edward's face when I questioned him last night.

Edward comes back 10 minutes after I hang up the phone, one hand full of diner take-out and the other behind his back. He places the food on the splintered coffee table and brings his now free hand up to palm the back of his neck, an uncharacteristically nervous move. I can't stop the tugging at the corners of my mouth as Edward stands before me looking like a nervous young boy, if you ignore the leather jacket, clunky Docs and about 30lbs of muscle. "I was hoping you'd still be in bed when I got back," he says, avoiding eye contact.

My chest grows increasingly tighter the longer Edward refuses to look at me. "I'm, er… I'm sorry?" I attempt, though I'm not quite sure what I'm apologising for. Edward huffs and shakes his head.

"Don't be sorry, I'm just acting like a fuckin' idiot. I wanted to bring you breakfast in bed is all. And – well, I got you these," he replies, eyes still averted and shrugging one shoulder as he thrusts forward his opposite arm, the one he'd hidden behind his back up until now.

The smile that previously threatened now bursts across my face, exploding like a firework and pulling at my cheeks. I step forward, taking the bent and misshapen flowers from Edward's outstretched hand.

"I've never gotten flowers before," I state, my stomach tingling with butterflies I thought only existed in books. I don't gush or squeal outwardly like I'm dying to, but one look at Edward's lopsided smile tells me he sees it anyway, that he knows.

"I don't know what type they are, they were just the first purple ones I saw. They kinda got crushed on the ride ho-"

"No, they're perfect. I love them, thank you, Edward," I interrupt, moving forward to kiss his cheek. I go into the kitchen looking for a tall glass to put them in, setting them on the counter and bouncing soundlessly on the balls of my feet while doing random punching movements with my hands, my only show of the giddy excitement filling me up. I hear a stifled chuckle and turn to find Edward standing behind me, a hand covering his mouth as he tries to hold in his laughs. He can't restrain them for long though and soon they bubble up and out, a manly guffaw echoing around the kitchen.

"It really wasn't that funny, Edward," I scold, a hot flush working a path from my neck and up towards my hairline as he continues, helpless against the laughs coming from deep within his belly. Eventually my delight at seeing him happy overcomes my embarrassment and I begin to giggle along with him, both of us clutching at worktops as we struggle to stay upright. I'm just wiping a tear from my face when Edward pulls on my hand, bringing me into his body.

"Only you, Bella. I love you so much," he says, mouth curving and eyes soft even as mine widen and gape. He continues to stroke my hand as the silence drags on and out, his smile never once faltering or falling. I feel struck dumb, his words rendering me speechless. Seeing Edward standing there opening his closed-off heart, his words concrete and sure, my mouth can't help but answer back – not with words, but with something more.

My top lip naturally finds his bottom one as I meld my mouth to his, not feeling any of the fairy-tale sparks or the cliché world tilt but something infinitely better. Because there in the rickety and ramshackle kitchen, as Edward's calloused hand cups my cheek and his lips press back into my own, I find a warm home for my heart.

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**A/N: So, be honest – who feels like doing a Bella jump right now?**


	13. Chapter 11

**A/N: I'm glad many of you were as excited as I was about the last chapter, thank you for all the lovely feedback. Quick reminder - please sign in before you review so I can respond to what you say.**

**Hope you like! **

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Edward's mouth moves tentatively over mine, nothing like the bruising power I thought he'd have. His lips coax rather than force; suggest rather than tell. He leans into me with barely any weight behind him, hand sliding to the back of my neck with no more pressure than the wisp of a paintbrush across a canvas. His kiss is like a sweet nothing whispered into the ear of a lover in a crowded room, flushed and full of naughty promise; a knot of lust, care and adoration tangled in every syllable. I move my hand to rest on his chest so I can stabilise my off-kilter balance, my lips curving into a smile when I feel his heart pounding a rhythm that matches my own. Edward smiles back as he caresses my collarbone, my throat, my jaw and finally my mouth as he pulls away. His eyes are brighter than I've ever seen them as his forehead comes to rest against mine, both of us breathing hard. We don't speak, don't use words to fill a gap because there isn't one, no awkward fumbling to spoil the moment. Instead we simply rest against one another as though it's a practised move we've been doing for years, the roughened pad of his fingers rubbing against my skin. It isn't long until he takes another step forward and recaptures my lips, this time kissing harder and loving more. I can't help but let out a giddy giggle when his tongue traces my bottom lip like he's committing its feel to memory, his resulting rumble of laughter causing something to spread deep and warm inside my chest. His tongue twines with my own and he strokes it with just enough force that I feel reverberations radiating through my pelvis. I can't help but think of Jake's hate for this type of kissing, calling it sloppy and vulgar, but there's nothing indelicate about the way Edward slides his mouth over mine. He pushes forward more commandingly, his lips demanding yet gentle. I respond in kind, unable to help the moan that slips through the gaps in our connection. He pulls back, breathing hard and placing a hand directly over my heart. His eyes are even softer than his smile as he leans towards me and places the most tender of kisses to my forehead.

"I know, Bella." he says, and I'm reminded of how well he understands me; knows the words won't come right now. I breathe a sigh and rest my face against the broadness of his chest, letting love fill and heal me.

* * *

It seemed as though it'd been months since I'd walked into the house to find Billy's cold body, so when the day of his funeral rolls around I'm oddly detached. Speaking about the guilt-tinged relief that I felt had lifted some of the weight bearing down on my ribcage, but I can't deny I woke up this morning feeling as if Edward's arm across my waist was the only thing holding me together. I'm fragmented; torn between feeling okay and being consumed with anger. Edward insists on driving me to the cemetery on his motorbike, the position allowing me to burrow into the solid form of his back. Jacob's eyes are like knives as we enter the parking lot but the strong arms and stronger resolve Edward provides me with make them easy to forget. He whispers that he loves me before I leave to sit grave-side, the bright sky illuminating the green around us. I sit in my front row chair to the right of Jacob, listening to the standard service and letting the coil twisting deep in my gut overtake my need for decorum; a cleansing torrent of tears pitter-pattering on my black dress.

I cry out my frustration, my fear and my loss; my rasping breaths easing the tightness of my throat. I sob as I listen to Jacob sugar-coat his speech about his father, mourning the loss of a man I could barely remember. I cry until I can't cry anymore, my spasming stomach finally calming. I listen to story upon story of a Billy from years before, the false sincerity echoing off the trees until it deafens me. None of these people looked after him or offered to help him when he was in need - I barely know half the people here and I lived with Billy for seven years. My indignation chafes at my skin until it peels and I crack, suddenly seething. I stare at the oak of the coffin until it's my turn to speak, moving toward the bottom of the muddy earth. My eyes catch a pair of brown-black ones looking back and my surprise at seeing Leah there causes my foot to fumble over a stray tuft of grass. I swallow and close my eyes for a few seconds, opening them only to catch a gleam of light across the cemetery. Edward still stands propped up next to his motorbike, the bright white of the shirt he bought especially glowing in the midday sun. He's too far away to see in any detail but I don't need to; the warmth covering my body nothing to do with the weather. I straighten my shoulders, staring directly at Leah until she drops her gaze. I focus back on Edward as I begin to speak.

"I haven't given much thought as to what I wanted to say here, but it's nothing like what's already been said. To me, death doesn't mean we gloss over harsh truths; it can't absolve all wrong doing. People tend to speak of the dead in only the best of terms, rose-tinted glasses colouring their vision until their perception is skewed. I'm not here to talk about Billy as he was 20 years ago, to pretend the last decades of his life didn't happen. It's an insult to deem aspects of his life too unsavoury to discuss; I don't agree and I don't accept that. You may remember a man who travelled across this state with only a rusted motorbike, or a man who had a joke on hand at all times; that may seem like the only acceptable version of his life story. But me? I was lucky enough to be blessed with 2 fathers in my life, and they've both taught me that not telling the truth is just as bad as lying. I remember a man who loved his wife with all his heart, a man left to pick up the pieces of a shattered family. I remember a man who gave everything he could to his son and someone who fought every day to keep both their heads above water. It might not sound as idyllic as some of the stories being told here, but the truth only hurts when it's at its most honest. Billy was a man plagued by pain, as many of us are, and to not acknowledge that is to do him the biggest disservice imaginable. I can recognise the deep sadness he carried and not have it taint my view of him as the wonderful, complicated man that he was. I still have fond memories of him trying to take his wheelchair onto a beach so Jake and I could run around, or of his smiling face at my graduation. Recently I came across something thanks to a friend of mine, that people die but love endures. Love doesn't pick and choose when to exist, you either love a person through their hurt or you haven't loved them at all. Above all else, Billy was a man who gave me a safe place to rest when I was in need. I wish some of you could have done the same for him."

My voice rings clear across the cemetery and I can sense the smile on Edward's face, the support he always provides weaving around my trembling heart. I make my way back over to my seat, my back a straight line of pride. There's so much anger coming from Jake that the air between us is almost buzzing but I refuse to waver; not giving him the satisfaction of making me feel small for stating something he should have said when he had a chance rather than a cliché platitude. I stare straight ahead and catch the eye of Sam across the pit that denotes Billy's final resting place, his chin dipping in a nod. His support at this final moment, at the swan song of my connection to this town, is all the prodding I need to hold my head high for the rest of the service.

I stand silent as others sniffle. My head and my heart are both sore but I'm at peace. One final tear rolls down my cheek as I bring my hand up to my mouth, kissing my fingers and pressing them to the casket before it's lowered into the ground. I turn, having said all my goodbyes, but I'm pulled back by an all too familiar grip on my arm.

"Don't touch me," I hiss as I turn toward Jacob, trying to wrench my arm from his hold.

"What were you thinking with your little speech? How dare you," Jacob says, his tear-roughened voice harsh.

"Stop. I said what I wanted to say; what I needed to say. You don't get to judge that or me."

"We're at his funeral, it's not appropri-"

"No, what isn't appropriate is the way you're manhandling me. I don't take kindly to it so again, do not touch me," I interrupt, my voice low and threatening. "All these people can pretend like they were there for him, like they knew him, but they didn't. We knew him. Just because you didn't want to tell the truth up there doesn't make me wrong. I'm done here. Let go, now."

There's a moment as Jake's nails dig into my arm that fear creeps cold over me. I'm fully aware that Edward has the perfect view of what's happening and I know I won't be able to hold him back if Jake doesn't back off soon. I refuse to use him as my shield, though, instead staring resolutely at Jake until he drops his hand. The blood rushing back causes a raging burn to spread from my shoulder to my wrist but I don't give any outward sign, choosing instead to turn my back for the final time on the two men who used to be my world as I walk toward the new one.

* * *

Edward and I settle into an odd dynamic over the following weeks, me working at the diner all day while he's at the construction site. I'm still staying at his apartment but it doesn't feel awkward or unnatural. We share a bed and he shares his heart with me as I try to open mine in the same way; my previous experiences still choking me whenever I attempt to speak the words. The ghosts of past hurt sit ever-present in my mind, reminding me of what's happened when I've loved freely in the past. I'm overwhelmed with guilt, bone-deep and bitter - Edward has made such an effort to let me in and yet I can't seem to do the same. To his credit he never makes me uncomfortable about my inability to vocalise my feelings but there's a acerbic aftertaste in my mouth every time I can't return his 'I love you'.

That all changes the night of my 20th birthday. My boss lets me go home early from the diner so I have a hope of doing something with my evening. I'm exhausted but excited to see Edward considering he had to go to work early this morning, driving home with a smile on my face. That drops when I walk inside to find the apartment dark, memories of nights spent alone as Jacob went out at the forefront of my mind. I'm trying to hold back tears as I walk into the kitchen, only to find no sign of life anywhere. I head to the bedroom, eyes burning, intent on sleeping through my lonely evening. I'm hit by a wall of heat as I push open the door, finding lit candles of every flat surface of Edward's run down furniture. Best of all is the bashful looking man sitting in the middle of the bed, cheeks slightly reddened.

"Hey you," he says, walking forward and taking my hand. I blink to try to clear away any remaining wetness but don't manage to in time, Edward's whole face falling as he frowns. "What's wrong, sweetheart?" he asks, and his face is so concerned that I can't help but blurt it out.

"I love you."

It's almost comical the way Edward recoils, his confused expression looking strange next to the smile overtaking his mouth. I shake my head and try again.

"I meant to say, I love the way you always take care of me and I feel so cared for. I was worried you'd forgotten it was my birthday when I came home and there were no lights on," I say in a small voice, embarrassed by my lack of faith. I expect Edward to scoff or make a joke but instead his body stiffens and he pulls away from me.

"Edward?"

"You didn't mean to tell me you loved me?"

"What?"

"Goddammit, Bella," he croaks out as his voice cracks. "You just said you meant to say you loved how I take care of you, not that you love me. So which is it? Do you or don't you?" he says, not trying to hide the hurt that's evident in his face. "Because I love you so much that it's like a knife in my gut every time you don't return it. You can't tell me you love me and then take it back. It doesn't fucking work like that." He tilts his face to the ceiling before he continues. "I've tried so hard not to push, but all I want is to go to sleep knowing you love me and not having to worry that'll have changed by the morning. I need the words but I don't want them if you're gonna take them back when it gets too scary. Just... fucking trust me, Bella. Trust that I'm not going to hurt you, that I want nothing but for you to be happy. I'm scared shitless, just like you are. The difference is that I love you enough to make it worth it either way. So again, do you love me?"

I almost knock Edward over with how hard I push my body into his, a grunt leaving him as he tries to stop us sprawling to the floor. I grab his jaw with frantic hands, raining kisses all over his beautiful face. "I love you," I whisper as I press my lips to the corner of his mouth. "I love you, I love you. Every part of me loves every part of you, always."

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**EPOV**

I sigh in much-needed relief, my arms circling Bella's waist and lifting her from the floor as she kisses me over and over. I'm gentle but she just kisses harder, using my groan as opportunity to caress my tongue with her own. My movements are frenetic as she tugs on my shirt, almost dropping her in my haste to take it off. I barely have it over my head before Bella's exploring my body, tracing contours of muscle and running a finger under the waistband of my trousers. I look at her face and see none of the trepidation I feared, just an open expression and upturned lips. I begin to undress, my dick hardening ever further as she brings her hands up to undo the button on her jeans.

There's no talking as we strip down, eyes roving over the other's body unashamedly. I can't keep my gaze away from Bella, her gorgeous body finally being revealed as she removes her clothing piece by piece. I swallow when I see her bare for the first time and release a gritty groan as she presses her soft skin to mine. I pull her into my embrace, threading a string of kisses around the curve of her clavicle; whisper-soft flicks and licks of my tongue exploring the dips and hollows of her sternum. Her breath comes in pants, the hot blasts of it striking my flushed forehead as I rise up on my knees to press my rough lips to her soft skin, tasting the salty slickness in the valley between her breasts. She's speaking in half-words, incoherent yet irresistible as I suckle her hard nipple into my warm mouth. Her face contorts as she moans, hips bucking into mine. She's a pale peach paradise for my eyes only, and I am overwhelmed with love. I've slept with a few women before, the perfect bad boy ex-con for them to have a one night stand with and tell their friends about, but none of them cared like Bella does, none of them looking at me the way she is right now. No-one's ever looked at me like she does.

"God, you're beautiful," I tell her as I decorate her body with the burning brand of my lips, moving my hands down to stroke and coax where she needs it most. Her limbs are jerky as her orgasm builds, erratic pounding of her heart sounding in my ear as I lick the creased underside of her breast. And then suddenly she tenses, a strangled version of my name passing through her lips, tightening around my fingers and gripping the bed sheets. I smirk, kissing her slackened mouth as her orgasm tears through her, her endless thrashing finally making way for the sated, sleepy smile that overtakes her face.

I'm careful as I enter her, tracing her jaw with gentle touches as I push inside. I can't hold back my exclamation at how it feels - she's perfect. It's tight and it's wet but more than that, it's Bella looking up at me with those soft eyes and I'm lost, surrounded by her in every way possible. I pull her down onto me further by her hips, manipulating her body until her legs rest in the crooks of my elbows. We fuck, skin slapping loudly; my pelvis grinding hard into hers, circling to find the best angle. I stare at Bella's beautiful face and slow my thrusts down, elongating them until the head of my cock is rubbing the best spot, her moans punctuated by my curses. I'm barely holding on at this point, burying my face in Bella's sweet smelling neck. I pound into her with short and choppy strokes; desperate to make her come before I do. I suck two fingers into my mouth, making sure they're wet before I move them down and circle her clit, hard enough for her to know how close I am. It's not until I press my mouth to hers that she falls into her second orgasm, my lips stifling her cries. I thrust shallowly as I wait for her to recover, pleasure radiating throughout my body. Bella runs her hands over the muscle of my shoulders and my chest, finally resting one over the apex of my barbed wire tattoo; the symbol of my isolated life up to now. I can't hold back any longer, coming into her in pulses that match the frantic beating of my never-fuller heart.

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**BPOV**

I wake up the next morning to the sound of my cell buzzing against the bedside table. I fumble for it, my eyes still half-closed by sleep. There's something horribly disconcerting about being awoken by a phone call, the timing setting your body on edge immediately. I swing my legs over the edge of the bed as I slide a finger across the screen to answer the call, yawning a 'hello' as my mouth curves upwards at the sight of Edward stirring in the sheets. The next words steal my breath and my smile.

"Bella? It's Mark. I've found Esme Cullen for you."

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**A/N: Um.. is it hot in here? Let me know what you thought!**


	14. Chapter 12

**A/N: So glad everyone who reviewed liked the last chapter! I was really nervous about it, for obvious reasons. **

**Hope you enjoy this one just as much.**

* * *

I thank Mark as he tells me to come down to the station to collect her contact information before hanging up. I sit stock still as Edward rolls over behind me, needing him to stay asleep so I can figure out what the hell I'm going to do. Thankfully he doesn't wake up and I rise on shaky legs, wheezing as I walk into the bathroom. The soft thud of my head hitting the door echoes off the floor tiles as I rest my back against the solid wood, praying it'll keep me standing. I bend over and place my hand on my knees, desperately trying to suck some air back into my body. Even though I arranged for Mark to search for Esme, him finding her feels like a speeding train just plowed straight into my gut. My guilt at not telling Edward sits around my neck like a noose, heavy rope weighing down my shoulders. I felt for sure like it was the right thing to do – I didn't know if she would be found or what she was doing. I still don't, really, and that's what's causing the nausea roiling in my stomach. There's a very real possibility she disappeared because she didn't want to see him anymore after what he did to his father. While Edward suspects that, having it confirmed would ruin him. He's like a glass figurine encased in granite – the exterior is brittle and resistant; the core fragile and easy to shatter. To bring him his mother only for her to reject him would be like ripping the wings off a butterfly, the cruellest of games. I can't take that risk, not after he let me burrow my way into his heart. The alternative makes bile rise in my throat, coating my tongue in sour acid, but it's the only choice I have. I have to speak to Esme first.

My penitence over keeping the information to myself only grows when I walk back into the bedroom to find Edward sat up in bed, sleepy-eyed and shy. It's moments like these where he shows his vulnerability that usually cause my heart to clench with love for him, but this time my shame overrides anything else and I avert my eyes. I make my way back to bed, still having hours to go before work, sitting beside Edward and trying not to suffocate from the tense silence permeating the air. Edward clears his throat next to me but I keep my eyes trained on the grey and crumpled sheets covering his bed, wishing I could disappear into the cotton creases.

"Is, uh, is everything okay?" he asks, and the confused waver in his voice sinks into my skin like a knife.

"Everything's fine," I tell him, attempting a smile in his direction. He's relentless, staring hard into my face with a frown that tells me he isn't buying it.

"Everything doesn't seem okay. I woke up and you weren't in bed and now you're acting all weird."

"I don't mean to, I'm sorry."

He smiles but it's obviously fake, his eyes taut where they should be crinkled and his lips white from pursing. I'm lost in thoughts of how Esme will react if I can get in touch with her, how Edward will react if she does want to speak to him, how she could have even disappeared in the first place. I'm so caught up in my worrying that I stiffen when a hand presses down on my arm. Edward flinches back as if I've hit him, and the mental image of all the times someone did burst across my vision. His face is puzzled as I look apologetically in his direction until his face contorts and he flushes seemingly out of nowhere. I'm confused and narrow my eyes at him but he's the one to look away this time, face turning to the side so all I can focus on is the repetitive bobbing of his Adam's apple.

"Was it last night?" he whispers, and it's so unlike Edward's normal demeanour that I barely register what he's said, instead tilting my head as I wait for him to turn around. He doesn't, though, and as I sit silent the reddening of his cheeks only grows.

"What?" I question, puzzled.

He grimaces, the scar on his cheek stretching horribly as he does so. His hands are gripping the comforter so tightly I'm worried he'll tear through it soon.

"Last night. Do you regret saying you loved me?" he clarifies, and I'm so horrified that I can't muster up anything to say. It only gets worse as he continues. "Was it the sex? Because it seemed as if you liked it."

Fuck. The nausea I felt earlier in the morning hits me again with twice the force it did before and I have to swallow to make sure I'm not sick. I move forward and wrap my arms around the tensed form of Edward's shoulders, the tightened muscles pressing sharply into my collarbone.

"I loved it, Edward, and I love you. Things are just confused right now, a little hazy."

His shoulders relax the tiniest amount, a frustrated sigh escaping him as he rubs a hand over his eyes. "I try really hard to trust you and you make it so difficult sometimes," he says. He doesn't mean it cuttingly; no malicious intent behind the words. He's just being honest – yet the brutality of his statement slices deep into my belly.

"I'm sorry," I tell him and he nods, but the straightened set of his spine tells me all I need to know. This shit with Esme needs to be resolved fast, or I'll lose Edward just like he lost her.

* * *

I'm hopelessly distracted for the rest of the morning, replaying this morning's events over and over in my head. Of course Edward would jump to that conclusion, given what happened last night. I feel awful for scaring him and terrified of how the news I have might affect him. I'm so torn between keeping him protected from the potential fallout of finding Esme and telling him the truth that it makes my head spin. I decide to take him some lunch from the diner, hoping to at least fix where I went wrong earlier.

I'm almost overcome with nervousness as I drive towards Edward's work. He's mentioned before that some of the guys have their wives bring them food and eat with them, but he's never asked or hinted that he'd want me to. I tap my fingers against the steering wheel as I park outside the site, checking my hair twice in the rear view mirror before I'm ready. There's a group of guys lingering by the gates and I decide to ask them for help, though as I step closer and their eyes roam over my body I regret my decision. I look slightly to the left of them, trying to ignore the way my skin crawls as I get within hearing distance.

"Hey there, little one. You lost?" One of the men in the middle of the group asks, smirking mouth and alpha stance only heightening my unease.

"No, I'm looking for someone and I was hoping you could help me. Edward Cullen?" I say, revelling in the way most of the men snap their eyes to my face and away from my chest. Clearly Edward's been living up to all the bad-boy stereotypes here.

"You're his girl?" the blonde man questions, arms still crossed over his chest.

"That'd be me. Could you tell me where he is?" I answer, not feeling quite so meek anymore. It's obvious from the way most of the men have reacted that they aren't willing to mess around with Edward and for that I'm grateful.

"I'll do you one better. I'll go get him," he says, though his face looks more predatory than helpful.

"Uh, okay. Thanks," I say, flashing a quick smile and turning toward the entrance. I'm shifting the food containers from hand to hand when I finally see Edward, and I have to adjust my hands so I don't drop them.

Holy. Fucking. Hell.

Edward's walking toward me, white hard hat in one hand and the other raking through his ever messy hair. He has this swagger whenever he moves; broad-shouldered bravado and just a touch of arrogance, and now he's using it to full effect as he lopes across the dusty building site with his eyes trained on me. He's wearing some faded band tee with holes around the neckline that's covered in powder from whatever he's been working on, and I think I might pass out before he even reaches me. His biceps bulge as his hand moves toward the back of his head, shirt hem lifting enough to show me a sliver of toned stomach that I want to trace with my tongue. His shirt and arm come back down, the smirk twisting his mouth telling me I fell into the trap he set. I'd gladly fall every time.

And then he's finally here, heavy boots clumping as he stops in front of me. I don't even get a chance to speak as his hand cups the back of my neck and brings my face towards his, the containers crushed between us. His lips are more forceful than they've ever been, pushing into mine as his tongue claims my mouth. He continues working me over right there in front of the gate and I'm helpless to refuse. He doesn't stop until I let out a moan, eyes shimmering with naughtiness as he pulls his face away from mine. His hand stays gripping onto my neck, though, thumb digging into the muscle there. It's forceful and it's possessive – everything I thought I hated but apparently love. Edward smiles like he knows how I feel, trailing the rough pads of his fingers down the soft skin of my arm until he's holding my free hand and tugging me back to my truck.

"So, uh, hi?" I squeak out, still breathless from that kiss.

"Hey, darlin'. I wasn't expecting you, but it's the best surprise I've had in a long time," he says, smile wide and genuine.

"I wanted to do something nice for my boyfriend is all… and to apologise for this morning."

"No apology needed, Bell. I know things with us are heavy and I get that it's overwhelming. Just let me take care of you once in a while rather than shouldering it all yourself."

I can't help but let out a half-laugh, half-scoffing noise. "I'm living in your apartment, you take care of me just fine," I tell him, but he just responds with a slight shake of his head and a curving at the corners of his mouth.

"That's just taking care of the outside. I want to take care of all of you."

Happiness bubbles up inside of me and I giggle before I can tamp it down. "I think you took plenty care of me last night, Cullen."

Edward's eyes widen and shock overtakes his face, causing me to blush when I realise what I've just said. He laughs, moving to open the door to the truck for me.

"Why Miss Bella, I didn't know you had it in you," he says, making his eyebrows do some sort of move just in case I missed the innuendo. I grimace and he laughs as he walks around the other side of the truck, pulling himself up to sit beside me seconds later. We're quiet as we eat, but I can't contain my curiosity for long.

"What was with the show back there?" I ask, narrowing my eyes in Edward's direction.

"Just letting the guys know who you belong to. Pretty young thing like you comes around here and the wolves descend."

A spark of girly thrill blooms deep in my chest and spreads outwards until excitement overtakes me and I'm smiling like an idiot, teeth bared and cheeks sore. "So I'm yours, huh?"

Edward puts down his food, wiping his hands on his jeans before he leans towards me. "I didn't make that clear before now?"

I shake my head, feeling a flush spread over my face as he begins speaking again. "I love you and I can't think of anything that'd make me happier. I uh, I think about a future with you. I'm in this for the long haul, y'know?" he asks, hand moving to cover my fingers that have been drumming against the seat.

"A future?"

"You love to embarrass me, I swear it," he huffs out, shaking his head, but I can see the happiness beneath his act. He shifts closer, letting one hand cup my cheek. "Getting married to you, having some babies that look just like their mother… I think about a lot of things, Bella. All of them involve you."

This time I'm the one who initiates the kiss, practically tackling Edward. He gives as good as he gets, but thankfully he rears back before I can suggest truck sex. "You better get back to work so that prick boss of yours doesn't complain," he says, mouth curling with distaste. He's made it clear he thinks I should quit the diner while I wait for my school applications to come back, but for now it gives me money and something to do.

"Yeah, yeah. Get out of here. See you at home," I tell him, rolling my eyes and laughing as he salutes before stepping out of the truck. I watch him as he walks back to the site, waving when he turns and catches me still staring.

* * *

The diner is hectic all day and I have to work through my break, meaning the only time I find to call Esme is after I've stopped by the police station and finally gotten home. There's only an hour until Edward gets back – not ideal, but I refuse to draw this out any more than strictly necessary. I run a finger over the information I was given and dial her phone number with shaking fingers, each ring of the telephone causing a fresh wave of anxiety.

"Hello," a soft-spoken woman greets, sounding distracted.

"Hi. Uh, is this Esme Cullen?" I ask, balling my hand into a fist and smacking it against my knee. My nerves are a tangible force, clogging my throat and suffocating me.

"This is she; may I ask who is calling?"

"My name is Bella Swan, ma'am."

There's a pause before she speaks again. "I'm terribly sorry but have we met before? I don't seem to recall," she says, no doubt trying to place my name and voice.

My muscles are tensed, foot bouncing hard against the cheap carpet of the apartment floor. "No, we haven't. Uh – I'm calling on behalf of my boyfriend actually."

"Sorry sweetie, if you're selling something we aren't interested," she says apologetically. My eyes close and I bite down hard into the flesh of my cheek, letting the pain center me. I need to just come out with this, but I'm painfully aware this is my only shot. If I ruin this for Edward there's no way back. The guilt of my deception already sits heavy in my stomach; I couldn't deal with ruining his chance at knowing his mother and finding out why she disappeared.

"I'm sorry, you misunderstand me. I'm calling about Edward Cullen. Your son," I add when I hear nothing but silence. My teeth tear harder into the inside of my mouth, blood sitting metallic on my tongue. I fear that Mark has made a mistake and found the wrong woman – until I hear a pained cry through the phone, rasping breaths intermixed with retching sounds and whispered repetitions of 'oh my god'. Tears burn at the corners of my eyes. It's her. I've found Edward's mother.

I press my fist against my lips, trying to hold back any noises I might make. Regardless of what I may think of Esme, hearing her fall to pieces over the phone is awful. I hear a faint scuffle in the background but the words are too quiet to decipher. I almost drop the phone when I hear a man's voice.

"Hello? You have information about Edward?"

"I do. Sorry, who is this?"

"I'm Esme's husband, Carlisle."

I suck in a breath and close my eyes, counting to ten in my head. My anxiety is almost at breaking point but I'm no closer to finding out if she's actually interested in knowing Edward.

"With all due respect, Carlisle, I called to speak to your wife. I know she's upset but can she talk?"

There's another set of muted noises before Esme comes back on the phone, her voice scratchy and pleading. "Please tell me where he is. You have no idea how long I've regretted what I did. I need to speak to him!" she tells me, urgency making her words sound rushed.

"He isn't here right now. I was calling to see that you'd be willing to talk before I gave him false hope. See... er, he doesn't know I've found you. He recently told me about his life and how you'd disappeared and I wanted to see if I could bring you back together," I say, leaving out the part about Edward likely going batshit.

"Oh god, what he must think of me. Is he okay, doing well? Where do you live?"

"I'm not sure I feel comfortable talking to you about him without knowing if he wants it shared. We're in Port Angeles, Washington."

"My husband and I, we live over in Portland. Could we... could we see him?"

I'm slowly realising what a huge mistake this was. I only thought as far ahead as whether Esme would be interested, not about how many questions she'd want answered. I can't do anything more without speaking to Edward. "Look, I really need to discuss all this with him now I know you're willing to at least talk with him. Can he or I reach you on this number?"

"Yes, any time of day or night. Anything, even if it's just to let me know he's okay."

The desperation lacing her voice knocks my breath from me momentarily, and I have to swallow before I can speak again. "I promise I'll call back at some point soon, you have my word." I tell her, hoping she believes me. I hang up the phone and slump back into the couch. What a mess.

* * *

Edward comes back a little while later, whistling and humming to himself. I'm still sat on the couch though now I've moved forward to sit on the edge of the cushion, the straining of my muscles making me think I might shatter from anxiety.

"Hey, missy!" he says as he comes toward me, laying a kiss to the top of my head.

"Hey you. I have something to talk to you about, could you sit down?" I ask, grabbing a hold of his hand. I guessed he'd be angry, but now it's time to tell him I'm terrified of his reaction.

Edward's face falls slightly but he still holds onto my hand, sitting next to me on the sofa and moving until he faces me. I look into the teal of his eyes, the rough stubble of his cheek and let it bolster me. I did this out of love, misguided or not, and I need to make Edward see that.

"You remember when we were talking about your mother and you said you'd want to know about her if you could?" I ask and he frowns, two lines appearing between his eyebrows before he slowly nods. "Well, uh, I asked a friend of my Dad's to find her."

Edward practically sags, all the air in his body releasing in one sharp exale. He's even paler than usual, his mouth opening and closing as the seconds tick by. I clear my throat before saying the next part. "And he did. I- I spoke to her today," I say, squeezing onto his hand when he stiffens. "I wanted to see if she wants to speak to you." Edward says nothing, just stares at my fingers wrapped around his own. My scared tears finally fall and I stutter over my words as I apologise.

He just shakes his head, tracing my thumbnail with his index finger. I cry silently as I wait for him to say something, anything. "Why didn't you tell me?" he says, and the rasp of his voice is like sandpaper to my skin.

"I didn't want to tell you I'd found her and then have it be the wrong person, or... or have her tell you she wasn't interested," I tell him quietly, but I may as well have shouted it judging by how Edward's face contorts, the knot in my stomach twisting as he does so. "Edward, please, I'm so sorry. I thought it was the best thing to do, I didn't know how she'd react."

He doesn't shout; doesn't scream or push me away. Instead he clings tighter to my hand and looks up at me with the frightened, wet eyes of an insecure child. "Does she want me?" he asks, and his voice is so quiet I'm surprised the sound of my heart cracking doesn't drown it out. My poor man.

I lift my arms up and he moves into them, shuddering once he's pressed against me. I run a hand through the edges of his hair, laying kisses against his scalp. "She wants so much for you to call her, Edward. We didn't go into why she left or anything like that because it's between you and her, but she begged me to have you call her. She wanted to come see you."

"See me? She lives close?" he says, still sounding so much like a little boy. I cling to him tighter, hoping the anchor of my arms around him will pull us both through.

"She and her husband live in Portland," I tell him quietly. I anticipate the tensing of his body just before it happens, his muscles locking and bunching against me.

"She has a husband?"

"Yes, Carlisle. I really don't know much about her, I only wanted to check she was happy to talk to you."

"Would you- will you sit by me when I call her? Shall I do it now?" he asks, glistening eyes looking right at me. I've seen Edward angry, sad, broken.. but somehow this scared version tops them all, every whispered word or sniffle burning through me like acid.

"You do it whenever you want, sweetheart. She said to call whenever, and I'll be here any time you need if that's what you want," I promise, brushing away tears from his coarse cheek. Edward leans forward, still wrapped in my embrace, and grabs my phone before facing me one last time. I nod, stroking the back of his neck. My cell is trembling in his hands, but he calls the number anyway.

Esme answers straight away, and for a moment I'm worried it might be too much for Edward. He sits completely silent and still while the sound of Esme's quiet sobs come through the receiver. But then his face crumples in relief and his mouth curves upwards; the "Mom, I missed you" that exits his mouth punching me in the gut - from the sounds of Esme's insistent crying, she feels the same way. I run my hand over Edward's knee as he shushes her apologies and tells her it's something that can be covered another time, another reminder of what a beautiful, loving man he is. I sit quietly next to him, my smile saying more than my words could. I listen as Esme asks about his life, about his job and even about me. I don't move from Edward's side even as the call stretches into an hour and then two, instead caressing his hand when he cries and squeezing when he can't speak. They tentatively arrange for them to visit us this weekend - there's an awkward silence when Esme says she can't wait to see Edward, and I can almost see him biting his tongue so he doesn't ask what stopped her for the past decade. Eventually they hang up and he buries his face in the space between my shoulder and neck, and I know what I've done is a good thing.

* * *

**A/N: Bit of an awkward place to end, I know, but this was getting too long. For anyone thinking Esme's been let off too lightly, this chapter was meant to be about them reconnecting. The next will cover their reunion. Let me know what you thought!**


	15. Chapter 13

**A/N: I'm so happy many of you agreed with how Edward handled things, and I hope that's still true after this.**

* * *

EPOV

The next few days as we approach my mother and her husband's visit, my mood seems to cycle between hopeful and furious, with an undertone of anxiety souring everything. Truthfully, I'd always assumed my mother wasn't interested in knowing me and left it at that – it was a dull constant that stopped registering after years of being there. I didn't realise how empty it felt without her until I heard her voice and suddenly her absence was like an abyss opened up in my stomach, everything falling into the black hole of how it feels to lose a part of yourself. Reliving through my childhood with Bella had bought back so many memories, both good and bad. Somehow, the memories of my mother loving Claire and I were the most raw, the ones that caused me to stop and double over as emotional pain turned into physical. The memories I had of my father were always the same angry words and bullying fists and though they hurt, it was nothing compared to the gnawing ache I felt deep in my gut thinking of the happy times. Above all else, I remember my mother as someone who loved people to a fault and I can't help but look at Bella in the same way.

It's a relief that she's finally letting herself trust me, and I feel the full force of her love in those tense days. She comforts me with her soft words just as much as she does with her soft body, wrapping me in comfort until it feels like I can face anything, be anything with her. What I told her before, about how I want to be a better man for her – that's still true now, and if anything knowing that she loves me has just made it doubly important. I would have never thought she'd contact my mother but I'd be lying if I said I was unhappy she did so, even as my nerves stifle me. I want a life with Bella and I don't feel I can have that until this has been resolved, until I'm a whole man to offer her instead of the broken pieces of one.

* * *

Waking up Saturday morning I blink in the muted morning light, caught in the moment when you're not awake or asleep but somewhere between the two. I burrow into the warmth of the sheets as I try to shake off any remaining traces of sleep, moving from my dream world into my real one. And it's kind of perfect because I feel the warmth of Bella's body against mine as I move, and my reality isn't quite so different from my dreams after all. My mouth turns upwards into a smile at the same time the realisation of what's happening today smacks into the space between my collarbones, my face falling as the constrictive threads of distress knit around my chest. I turn toward Bella only to find her still sleeping, her eyelashes skimming the softened curve of her cheek, and I try desperately to focus on the peace in her face rather than the anxiety that's eating me alive. I reach a clammy hand forward until I'm touching her pillow-creased skin, closing my eyes against the tears that burn there. I remind myself how much I want this and how long I've waited but the tears roll down my cheek and pool on the gray pillow anyway; a patch of moist black snaking out until it's seeped through the material, a spidery vein of hurt webbed on cotton. I pull the comforter over mine and Bella's head, trapping us inside our own space for a while. With her I can just... be - nothing more or less, no pretences or fronts. I shift until the length of my body is mapping hers; until the heat of her absorbs through my skin and washes away the rising panic like sun-warmed waves.

I lay my tingling palm to the small of her back as she begins to stir, the soothing skin contact suppressing my tears. I rest my forehead against hers, tangled hair covering me and making my skin itch. She moves forward lips first as she seeks my mouth, and I smile as I press mine to hers. She opens her eyes as she pulls back, the puzzled expression on her face barely discernible in the dark of the covers.

"Edward?" she croaks before clearing her sleep-clogged throat, "Why are we under the covers?"

"I'm hiding, and I can't think of anyone I'd want to hide with me except you."

She lets out a light giggle that lifts my heart and heals my sore spots. She moves to rest her head on my chest, messy hair and sleepy eyes looking up at me. "Today will be okay, you know? She really missed you. I know nothing can excuse her leaving but you have a chance here. Don't let resentment steal the only parent you have left."

I swallow convulsively but the lump in my throat persists, the endless flow of moisture dripping off my jaw as I admit things I've kept locked inside for so long I barely even knew they were there. "I'm scared, Bella. She's the one who left me. I'm angry and pissed off but mostly I'm scared that she'll say she couldn't look at me the same, couldn't face having a killer for a son."

Bella's hand that's been softly stroking mine stiffens, her fingers twisting tightly around mine. "Don't call yourself that, ever. We've been over this. What you did was the bravest and most selfless thing I've heard and I won't let you or her or anyone take that away. Don't convince yourself she'll reject you before you've given her a chance to love you first," she says quietly. I close my eyes and let her words run on a loop in my mind, wrapping my arm around her when she rests against me.

"I can try to do that, as long as you're with me," I tell her, and the extra weight on my arm as she pushes her body further into mine is all I need.

"Good. Now that's sorted, can we hide above the covers? Because this heat is doing nothing but remind me that you didn't take a shower last night," she says, and she's barely finished before she bursts into a deep belly laugh. I roll my body on top of hers, hands grabbing as I tickle her. We both laugh as she fights back and does the same to me, her small body weighing comfortingly on mine as I pretend she has me pinned. My tears are no longer ones of hurt but the cleansing, laughter filled ones that only Bella can bring.

* * *

When 1pm rolls around, Bella is sat on the sofa watching me pace. She wouldn't let me wear my dress shirt or smarten up, said Esme would love me just as I am. I've shaved and tried to comb my hair - not that it did much - but I'm wearing my usual t-shirt and jeans. My palms are sweaty and I can feel my heartbeat reverberating in my skull, pounding against my brain until it's deafening. I freeze when the knock on the door comes, clenching my fists and standing still, but Bella runs her hand along my arm as she walks past me to open it and says a soft hello to my mother who stands in the hallway looking like she did back when I was ten. Her hair is the same shiny auburn that I used to play with when she read me a bedtime story; her eyes the same green that shone with tears when I'd ask about a bruise. Her face looks both the same and yet different, lines that I hope are from laughter framing her eyes and mouth. Most of all I see her, loving and warm and my mother, and suddenly it's all too much.

My face crumples as I open my arms and she rushes into them, my chest feeling damp from her tears. I kiss her hair over and over as her hands clutch at my shirt, her body shaking in my grip as she sobs. I rub her back how she used to rub Claire's and the mental image is enough to make me cling tighter. We stand that way for minutes, just soaking in each other's presence. Things feel natural and yet stilted, especially as Mom pulls back and gasps at the scar on my face. Her eyes fill with fresh tears as she runs her fingers over it and her voice is small when she asks if it happened in prison. I nod and her arms squeeze me tighter than ever as she apologises over and over into my chest. I tell her it's okay but she carries on anyway, the shaking of her shoulders convincing me this is something she needs to do. I'm not prepared to gloss over her disappearing but as I look up to see Bella smiling even as she cries, I know this is enough for a little while.

We eventually all sit down and Mom's husband introduces himself. I shake his hand, just enough pressure to let him know I'm still prepared to protect her and he responds with in a much more welcoming way than I'd expect. Bella sits by me and I hug her close, my mother's smile at the action triggering my own.

"How long have you two been together?" she asks, hand against her chest.

"Not that long, but I wanted Bella for a long time before I eventually got her to agree to be mine," I tell her, smirking when Bella pinches the skin between my ribs. "You got remarried?" I ask, somewhat unnecessarily, but I don't have the patience to be coy.

Mom looks at Carlisle as he grips her hand and smiles at her, and her resulting smile is bittersweet to watch. "Carlisle and I have actually been married 6 years now."

"You didn't want to change your last name?" Bella asks. I tilt my head, confused - I just assumed she'd have changed her name at the first opportunity, or at least when she got remarried. I've considered it before and still do sometimes now, though the thought of severing my last tangible connection to Claire would always stop me.

"Oh, well..." my mother starts, before trailing off and looking toward her husband. He nods and turns towards me, opening and closing his mouth a few times before speaking. "You see, Edward, I'm actually your father's cousin" is all I hear before I feel a searing jolt of fear and anger pass through my limbs. I squeeze Bella to me so tight that she winces but I barely register it as I stare straight at Carlisle's face, my breathing heavy and fast.

I can feel my anxiety levels rocketing further at the thought of Mom's husband being a clone of my father; images of split lips and swollen eyes coming to my mind unbidden. I don't relax until I feel Bella's lips pressing into my skin. "You need to calm down and listen, sweetheart. Hear them out like you said you would," she whispers. I open my eyes and look at her face, uncurling my fists and leaning into her hand as she cups my cheek.

"Ed and I were estranged, you could say," Carlisle says, but I continue to look at Bella and focus on the rhythmic rubbing of her thumb across my skin. "His father and mine didn't get on, so we didn't see much of one another. I wasn't even at your parent's wedding. I heard about... what happened, and I reached out to your mother and offered to give her somewhere to stay away from Chicago."

"Away from me," I spit before I can stop myself, snapping my head around to stare at him. My mother's flinch in my peripheral vision is all it takes to cool my temper once more, remorse filling me. I open my mouth to apologise, but my Mom speaks before I can.

"You're right, Edward. I left and.. well, I had to stay away for a while, but that's no excuse. I didn't lie when I wrote you that letter - I had always planned to come back to you but things didn't work out that way."

"They didn't work out that way?" I ask. I have to fight to keep my voice low and without accusation as the muscles in my jaw tense. My mother looks down at her lap, the shame clear in her expression, but Carlisle's gaze is steadily directed at me.

"Your mother was in a psychiatric institution, Edward. You have to understand, going through the traumas she did can leave scars on a person. She was there for nearly a year. She couldn't come back."

I stand up sharply, ignoring the way Bella tugs on my hand. "I have to understand?" I say, my restraint in shreds. "You think I don't know about scars on a person? I killed my own father. You try being 15, in prison, with the nickname of Daddy Killer. I know all about fucking scars," I shout, getting louder and louder.

Carlisle holds his hands up in front of him, a clear sign of surrender. "I honestly didn't mean to offend you or belittle your experiences. I'm just trying to let you know what your mother went through."

I turn away and walk to the window so I can calm down, the sound of my mother's quiet cries burning like acid on my skin. I curl and uncurl my fist, watching the skin stretch around my knuckles as I do so. I anticipate the small hand that touches my shoulder, but I didn't think it would belong to my mother. She stands in front of me teary eyed and looking so sad I can't stand it.

"I was ashamed, Edward," she whispers, voice cracking as she forces the words out. I reach out my hand for her to hold and she grabs onto it hard enough to hurt, her whole body swaying into mine. "I hated myself. I stayed with your father because I had no other option. I stayed because I was a foolish, blind woman who thought he loved me. And the worst part isn't that I believed him, it's that I let you believe him. He said and did horrible things and I wasn't strong enough to fight back, even when you stood up for me; when you stood up for Claire," she releases a half-cry, half-whimper, closing her eyes.

"And I didn't stand up for you. I pretended like it would get better for years but then you got involved and things were so out of my control by then. I had no-one and he knew it. When I had your sister, he was so nice. He apologised and he told me things would be different and I didn't see through it like I should have. I failed you and her and I live with it, always. I carry it inside my heart and there's not a day that goes by where it doesn't feel like I have too much hurt for my body to cope with. I thought at your trial... I thought if I told the truth, finally, that they would believe me and they would see what he was like. But they didn't, Edward. Even in death he found a way to get to us. When you went to prison I fell apart. There were reporters outside the house and I felt I had nothing to live for. One of my children was dead and the other was in prison because of me. I thought you hated me, because I hated myself. When I left Chicago I thought I was doing the best thing for you. I was so ashamed that you'd had to solve my problems, again, and that you paid the ultimate price for it. It ate at me until I was nothing but a shell, and that was when I went into hospital. When I got out I couldn't face you. I let you down. I can't outrun it and I can't hide from it. There will never be enough time for me to make it up to you or enough words to tell you how sorry I feel, but I am. I'm sorry, I'm so sorry."

I pull her into me, feeling as if my heart is breaking and healing all at once. I make no effort to stop the tears coursing down my face, instead resting my head on her hair and letting them fall there. "I thought you hated me. I thought you were ashamed of me for what I did. I knew I'd go to prison as soon as I picked up the knife and I knew it as I lay with you on the kitchen floor. I accepted it. But I didn't know.. I didn't know how empty I would feel when you left, because I was alone then. I felt like I had killed Claire, killed my father and killed what was left of you too. I felt like I wasn't in prison for what I'd done to him but for what I'd done to you and her, but no time there would have been enough to punish me," I tell her quietly.

"I forgive you," I say, and as soon as the words leave my mouth I know they're right, feeling the pure truth of them all throughout my body. "I never thought there was anything to forgive, but even if there were I would always forgive you." She says nothing, just cries impossibly harder and wraps her body around mine. I stroke her hair, just as soft as it was when I was a child. "And Mom? I love you, with all my heart."

I sigh and feel ten years of guilt shatter and break away, my shoulders feeling free of all the pain I've carried for so long. I see Bella and Carlisle together on the sofa, both with tears on their cheeks and arms around each other. And standing there, in the middle of my apartment, I think maybe I do have a family after all.

* * *

**A/N: Please let me know what you thought!**


	16. Epilogue

**A/N: This is it, the final chapter of Little Hell! I hope you like it. Thanks to LaPumuckl for pre-reading.**

**To clarify - the epilogue alternates between the present and flashbacks of the time that's passed since the last chapter. **

* * *

I sigh as Edward's hands press against my back, thumbs digging into the aching plains of muscle either side of my spine. His fingertips are warm as they run across the top of my arms; his lips burning hot as they press against my neck. His chin comes to rest against my shoulder as his strong arms wrap around me, perfectly framing the huge bump where a flat stomach used to be. The smile he tries to hide in my skin causes my lips to curve and I stare at our reflection in the window, two happy faces and one heart mirrored back at me.

"My little lady still kicking?" he asks, body pressed fully into mine.

"Always. You're going to have a fighter on your hands with this one," I tell him, trying to hold back the giggle that bubbles up.

"Oh, I am? Funny how she's my daughter whenever she kicks," he says as he moves his hands to tickle my sides. I laugh and my heart feels full when he laughs along with me, the vibration of it moving from his chest to mine. I close my eyes as our daughter joins in and shifts around, feeling a lump in my throat when Edward moves his hand to sit over the place she's resting. She always stops whenever he does this - at first he was annoyed he never got to feel her kick, but now he claims it's because she can feel him there. I don't doubt it.

* * *

It was about 3 months after Edward reconciled with his Mom that we moved up to Seattle. I'd been accepted into the culinary school I wanted and Edward was able to transfer up to another construction project there. It felt bittersweet to finally leave Port Angeles knowing I probably wouldn't be back any time soon. It was the only home I'd known my entire life and the memories of love were just as strong as those of hurt. It felt like a goodbye to all that had held me back for so long - no more sadness over Charlie or Billy's deaths and no more bitterness toward Jake. It seemed as if karma had dealt enough of a blow to him - he'd been caught stealing from the garage and Sam fired him, meaning he'd lost all his friends and he and Leah were now living in her little house surviving on her teacher's salary alone. I wanted to be glad he'd gotten some of what he'd deserved but ultimately I felt nothing, and in some ways that was the best outcome of all; his life had no impact on me anymore. I was truly free to be whoever I wanted, the sadness that would always be around pushed back by the burst of happiness I felt waking up with Edward every morning.

Edward never wavered in his feelings for me, his love a strong constant that I feel every day. Having his mother back in his life removed the shackles of guilt he'd been bound by, and he gave himself to me fully after that. Esme and Carlisle insisted on giving us some money to put towards a down payment for a house and Edward surprised me by accepting with nothing but grace, letting his mother make up for her mistakes by taking care of him. Esme doted on him and on me, insisting she and Carlisle move to Seattle to be closer to us. Edward told her it was unnecessary but the excitement in his eyes gave him away and they moved not long after we did.

Our house was a four bedroom mess when we bought it, falling to pieces in places and horribly decorated in the others. Edward was resolute that he could fix everything, though, and so we took the chance knowing we'd never be able to afford anything of the same size unless we used all of my savings. We lived mostly in one room, a fuchsia-walled bedroom with a bathroom that was barely functional, but they were some of the happiest times of my life. We didn't have a kitchen, no living room or landscaping, but we had dreams and that seemed to be all that mattered. Weekends consisted of Edward working on the house while I picked out paint swatches, nights spent laughing and loving in our own little home. It wasn't always easy – there were days I'd come home from school and wish we'd bought an apartment instead, and there was the time Edward managed to piss off our carpenter enough that he quit, but my memories of that period of our lives are filled with joy because it was Edward and I living the life we'd never been able to before, happy and just together. And a year and a half later, when the last bit of furniture had been delivered and Edward declared the room down the hall from our bedroom should be the nursery, I knew it was all worth it.

* * *

"What's got you thinking so hard?" Edward asks, his arms still tight around me. I move my hands so they lay over his, my heart still skipping after all these years when he intertwines our fingers.

"Just about how awful this house looked when we bought it. We must have been insane," I answer, shaking my head.

"Jesus, there were times I thought I'd go crazy if I ever saw a paint pot again. Especially when you changed your mind four times over what kitchen cabinets to have," he grumbles, but I know him well enough to hear the smile behind the complaint.

"It was an important decision! I was going to school to learn how to cook; I couldn't have an ugly kitchen!"

"Oh yeah, because the difference in wood makes a huge difference in how your food turns out," he teases, and I turn around to cover his mouth with my own. We kiss for seconds or maybe minutes, the way his lips move against mine making me curse my belly for getting in the way.

"I can't get close enough to you!" I whine and to Edward's credit, he manages to stifle his laugh. He pulls me over to the counter and lifts me awkwardly, trying to pick me up without pressing too hard against my bump. He finally manages it, though, and I reward him by softly running my tongue over his bottom lip, smiling into the kiss when he pushes forward impatiently.

We pull apart and I stare at his face, so similar to the one I saw in the diner 10 years before. He's still the most attractive guy I've ever seen, aging in that way only handsome men can. The lines around his eyes speak of the years we've spent smiling, the ones framing his mouth detailing every laugh we've shared. He's always beautiful and I don't think that will ever change; not with age or with the number of people who stare at his scar. It's faded with time but it will be there for the rest of his life, just like the scars littering his heart and mine. We've healed one another, I know, and I'm thankful every day that I met Edward. I smile as my eyes roam his face. He attracts women's gazes everywhere we go, wide eyes and lustful thoughts directed at him – he's gorgeous after all, and he's still so in shape it makes me want to cry and jump him at the same time. He's maybe even more muscular now; broader and bigger, and he continues to wear leather jackets even though he rarely rides his motorbike. I've grown used to the stares he seems to garner just as he's grown used to the looks I receive from men – usually before they see I'm with Edward – and mostly we're oblivious anyway, eyes trained solely on one another.

"I'm definitely glad we picked such sturdy counters now," Edward says, and my mouth drops before closing again in indignation as his face splits into a smile.

"You jerk!" I reply, poking him hard in the chest as he laughs. He moves forward to kiss me but I rear my head back out of his way, denying him access which just causes him to laugh harder.

"I'm kidding!" he says but I ignore him, facing the other direction and sniffing. I have to bite my lip to keep from laughing as he looks at me, trying my hardest to look upset. "Aw Bella, you know you're beautiful. I tell you every day," he tries again, but I still refuse to face him. He starts to pout as he rubs my thigh and I finally give in, giggling at his sad face. His eyes widen and then narrow again as he watches me, lips twisting into my favourite smirk. "You little sneak. I should have known you'd do anything just to watch me squirm."

"You're damn right. That's mostly why I changed my mind on the cabinets so much," I tease before putting on a smirk of my own. "Well, that and I liked watching you with your shirt off when you had to carry the materials around the yard."

"Oh really?" he asks, stepping forward into the gap between my legs. I look down at my nails as he traces a hand up the side of my ribs, silencing the moan that almost comes out when he reaches my breast.

"Yeah. You looked so hot back then," I say, sighing and gloating inside when his hand immediately halts.

"Back then?" he questions, and the rough note in his voice is enough to tell me I'm going to like what comes next.

"Sure, you know, before you became an old ma- EDWARD!" I shout as he bends and throws me over his shoulder, bump and all. I giggle endlessly as he walks us up the stairs, barely even breathing heavily as he mutters about showing me who's old. My head hangs upside down, my face level with Claire's tattoo on his hip. In that moment my life seems pretty perfect, and as we make love the cold metal of his wedding ring against my face when he cups my cheek is enough to make me sure of it.

* * *

Edward proposed two years after we moved to Seattle and I'd be lying if I said I wasn't waiting for it to happen by that point. It wasn't that I doubted Edward loved me - he showed it all the time in the small things he did. I'd come downstairs an hour or two after he'd left for work to find the coffee machine refilled and a note telling me he loved me, or I'd find that he'd set Vampire Diaries to record even though he hated it. I knew we were right for one another, yet I also knew that Edward didn't have good experiences with marriage. Seeing him Mom and Carlisle happy had gone some way to improving that but I feared there was a large part of him that thought marriage would somehow change him or that he'd become this horrible person as soon as he went from boyfriend to husband.

I spoke to Esme, to Carlisle and even to Edward's friend Emmett. Each said the same thing - that Edward was crazy about me whether he proposed or not. I couldn't deny that I felt I needed to marry Edward, though; a part of me yearned to be his wife and have the fairy tale romance along with that. I kept it to myself, too scared it would never happen to voice the words. I tried not to want it, made a concentrated effort to go back to being happy as just his girlfriend but I couldn't hide the wince when I'd refer to him as my boyfriend, the word acerbic as it rolled from my tongue. I batted down that cliché need for commitment and tried to be content.

It wasn't long after that when Edward told me he had to go to a training course in Portland and would be gone for the weekend. It was almost a relief to have the time to myself, to sort out the deep discontent sitting in my stomach like a rock. Esme came over on the Saturday evening, dragging me out of the house and away from my Bridget Jones DVDs. She told me in no uncertain terms that my behaviour was going to cause a divide between me and Edward, and I knew she was right - there had been times in the weeks before where I'd feel as if there was a wall between us, and it was so unlike our usual relationship. We didn't hide things, and sitting in that restaurant I realised that I was being unfair to Edward by keeping such a huge issue from him. When he came home on the Sunday I greeted him with the love I hadn't recently, and as his warm arms tucked me tightly to him I wondered how I ever considered our life to be lacking.

I approached the topic over dinner, pushing my food around my plate and trying not to cry. "I uh, I've been really upset lately," I said, my voice wavering horribly even over those few words. I only became more upset as Edward moved to kneel next to me, stroking my hair and looking at me with eyes full of concern. "Do you ever want to marry me, Edward? Because if not then I... I can cope with that, but I just want to know," I finished, my stare aimed directly at my lap and the wet spots that formed on my leggings as my tears fell. I prepared for Edward to shout or tell me he wasn't ever going to want marriage but instead my head snapped up as he sighed and got up, walking out of the dining room. I sat staring at the cream paint of the wall until it was nothing but a blur of off-white; my chest tight with pain as I thought of Edward packing a bag to leave the house. I cursed myself for pushing him, doubling over and sobbing when I pictured selling the house we'd worked so hard on and having to face a life without him.

That's how he found me when he came back in and knelt beside me. I spoke before he could, the pleading in my voice matched by the desperate way my hands scrambled to grab on to him and hold him so tight he couldn't leave. He clasped my hands in his own and wrenched them from his body and I sat inconsolable as I waited for the blow to come.

"I'm sorry, Edward, I shouldn't... it's just good things don't last for me and I wanted this to last. I thought if we got married it would stay this way, but I'm sorry. We don't have to get married if you don't want to," I told him through my hiccupping cries, the tight spasms of my stomach making it hard to speak. He placed two of his fingers over my mouth and stroked the dampness away from my face with his free hand, shushing me all the while. He waited until I was silent again and reached into his pocket, pulling out a square box covered in black satin. I blinked away the last remnants of my tears and frowned, my confusion only growing as he moved to open it. And just before he lifted the lid, I realised that Edward was on one knee in front of me with a square box in his hand, and my heart skipped and then sped again.

Nestled in white cushion was a silver ring with a stone that sparkled even in the dim lighting - though not as brightly as Edward's smile; the diamond eclipsed by the shimmer of his eyes.

"When I told you that I had a conference in Portland - that was true. I didn't tell you that I'd also arranged to meet a friend of Carlisle's who owns a jewellery shop. The whole way home I was trying to think of a way to propose to you but none of my thoughts could have matched up to this, where you showed just how neurotic and irrational you could be and I got to sweep in like the hero," he said, and I laughed gratefully as he smirked before sobering. "But really all I ever needed, all I will ever need is you. I adore you, and I know I'm not good at telling you that but I hope it's never in doubt. You took the pieces of a broken, angry man, and you loved me until I felt whole again. You're the most beautiful, desirable and batshit crazy woman I've ever met. You've shown me how to live, how to laugh and love and how to be a good person. You've given me so much, and now I want to give you my future. I'll never stop trying to take care of you, Bella. Please be my wife."

The happiness that blossomed from deep inside stole my breath until I could no longer speak, my chest heaving as I frantically nodded. Edward lifted me from my chair and spun us around, refusing to put me down even as he handed me the ring. He held me firmly to his body as I twisted it around my finger, beaming as his mouth came down hard on mine. We kissed and laughed and cried, his tears mingling with my own until every point of contact between our faces was wet with liquid joy.

Our wedding was small and quiet, no big declarations or frivolous parties needed. Instead we married under the apple tree in our garden in front our family and a few friends, saying the traditional vows and saving our personal ones for later that night when we were alone. We ate and we celebrated and when everyone had left, we danced barefoot on the grass. And as Edward sang '_we found each other in the dark_' into my ear, there in the twilight of the evening in the shadow of our house, I don't think I'd ever been happier.

* * *

"Okay, so you aren't so old after all," I say through panting breaths, rolling off of Edward onto the bed and sprawling out.

He says nothing, but barks a laugh as he moves to wrap his body around mine. I rest my forehead against his and bask in the silence of the house.

"That'll show you not to tease me, woman," he says, pressing a kiss to my mouth.

"More like that'll make me tease you every day," I reply, his resulting laugh making my stomach clench.

"You already tease me every day! You know what you do to me with those little looks and smirks, and don't get me started on this body of yours."

He runs a hand over my new shape, feeling my generous hips and the curve of my thighs. Pregnancy has been just as gruesome as everyone makes it out to be, and there was a week or so at the beginning where I thought I'd never keep food down again. Yet if there's one good thing about it, it's the changes in my body and how Edward responds to them. Going from a teenager to an almost-thirty year old has given me extra pounds and pregnancy just exacerbated that, but the subtle touches and dirty whispers that Edward showers me with have me more confident than ever.

"Yeah, yeah, I get the picture. I'm hot."

Edward's head snaps up as he looks at me, and it's barely a second before I burst out laughing. He just shakes his head, a smile that's full of warm affection across his cheeks.

"You've gotten crazier over the years, Mrs Cullen."

"Oh well thank you, Mr Cullen. It must be your influence," I tell him sarcastically,

"What did I teach you about teasing me?"

"That it leads to wonderful things?" I question, eyes wide as I flutter my eyelashes at him. He smirks, the warmth of his mouth covering my body as he trails kisses down my chest and stomach, and my moan when he reaches where I need him most makes me resolve to tease him more often.

"How long do I have before the boys come home?" he asks, and it takes me ten seconds before I even register the question. I squint at the clock by the bedside and do an internal fist pump when I see there's still an hour left.

"An hour. They're being dropped off at 4," I reply, arching my back as he brings his fingers up to stroke and tease.

"Good. I'm going to need every minute," he tells me, lowering his mouth between my thighs. "And Bella? I'm going to need you to be loud."

* * *

It was maybe a year before I graduated from culinary school that I decided I wanted to go on to become a high school cookery teacher, and with that came a need for in-school experience. I shadowed the culinary teacher at a local high school for a few weeks, gaining not only the knowledge that teaching was definitely what I wanted to do but also finding out more about the various organisations and charities in the area via the guidance counsellor I became friendly with. She told me about a foster home for troubled young men in the area and how they were always looking for people to help and something about it hit home – maybe because these were children with nowhere to go, just like I'd been at one point.

Edward wasn't keen on me going alone, considering they had boys up to age 18 there. He came with me and we offered to help out, both taking on mentor type roles with the children. Edward was wary at first, not having spent much time around teenage boys, but he shone. He had a knack for speaking to boys who were like he'd been as a teen, volatile and aggressive, and getting to the root cause behind their issues. He loved his work there and even encouraged Esme to join in. There were tough days when he'd come home and I'd know he'd seen or heard something that bought back a painful memory – those were the evenings I sheltered him with my body and my heart, a safe place he desperately needed. Mostly he loved his work, though, and a while after he was offered a place working in the foster home. He was worried that due to his background he wouldn't be allowed to work with children but we found that since his conviction had been so long before and was manslaughter rather than homicide, and thanks in part to a glowing reference from his parole officer, he was given the okay.

It brought out a side of Edward that I don't think even he knew he had, a seemingly in-built ability to lead and a natural authority that the boys respected. Unlike many of the other workers who had trained in social work or child psychology, Edward had no formal qualifications apart from the GED he'd gained in prison and yet he was the person the boys felt understood them the most because he'd lived it. Their shitty lives were a sad repetition of his own, but he was convinced their futures wouldn't be, and to this day I'm convinced he's kept more than one of them from going to prison. That's the thing about Edward – on the outside he's the tough, bad-boy stereotype and on the inside he's full of love that he wants to give, loyal to his core. He connects with people who are beaten down and broken, and I couldn't be more proud of all he does if I tried.

That's why when Edward came to me with the idea of adoption just after my teaching qualification was all finished with; I did nothing but smile, the 'yes' that left my mouth tear-choked and happy. The process was long and arduous, especially with Edward's past, but the support of Esme and Carlisle and our belief in what we were doing pulled us through. Friends didn't quite understand our thought process considering neither of us were infertile, and yet to Edward and I adoption seemed natural, an extension of our love to someone who wouldn't have it otherwise. We spent a year waiting for a phone call that never came, and over the months it became little other than a wishful thought at the back of our minds; a pipe dream that wouldn't happen. We struggled as time wore on – Edward particularly, seeing as it was undoubtedly him that held our application back – but then as we'd almost given up, the phone call came to tell us there were two twin boys with a mother that didn't want to be involved. We waited to hear about their birth, keeping our hope hidden for fear we'd curse ourselves, and at 4:52am on August 6th, we travelled to the hospital after receiving a call. Esme had asked us very seriously whether we could care for an adopted baby and though we'd told her we could, Edward and I had stayed up many nights discussing how we'd feel looking at features that weren't ours; speculating over where certain traits came from. But I thought of the years I spent with Billy, nothing to link us but love and I had my answer. And when I walked in to the room only to see two perfect boys, a shock of black hair atop each of their heads; that was when I knew biology didn't matter. They were mine and Edward's, and the sight of his face as I picked up one of our sons was enough to convince me he felt the same.

* * *

"Mommy, where are you?" I hear as I blink into the dark of my bedroom, thankful Edward helped me get dressed before he left to go wait for the boys. I shake my head as I hear them pounding up the stairs, laughing when I hear them telling each other to be quiet so they don't wake me. I lie on my side silently as they creep in, both tearing off their shoes and crawling into bed with me. I barely contain a happy sigh when I feel two small hands rest on my swollen stomach, the whispers about who can feel the baby better making it impossible to contain my smile.

"Mommy, you're awake! I saw your smile! Joshua and I are back from school now so you have to get up!" Ryan says in a muted yell, knowing Edward won't be impressed if he hears shouting when I'm meant to be resting.

"I know you're back from school, Mr Ryan, because I could hear you and your brother hoofing up the stairs!" I tell him, using my hands to tickle them both. They both still have black hair, their skin darker than the pale complexion that Edward and I share. They like to tell their friends that we're special parents because we chose them, and neither Edward nor I have ever disagreed.

We were worried that the prospect of us having a biological child would make them feel uneasy, but as soon as we told them I realised we'd underestimated just how wonderful our sons were. They were both very excited and still are now, even though they know life will be slightly different when she's born. They asked to buy a baby name book with their allowance that month, pouring over the pages in their room and telling me we should name the baby Grace because they'd seen that it could mean blessing. Edward and I agreed, bowled over by their caring nature, but that was nothing compared to what came next. They moved to sit either side of us and quietly suggested that we should include Aunt Claire in her name, to make sure the baby was 'awesome'. We agreed to think about it and I held Edward as he cried later that night, tears of my own coming when he called Esme to ask her permission.

I'm brought back to the present by the heavy weight of Edward jumping onto the mattress, causing two squealing children and a lot of jostling. And as I sit in the middle of the bed surrounded on all sides by the smiling faces of my boys, I can't help but think of how lucky our daughter is to be born into a family as full of love and happiness as this one.

* * *

**A/N: It's all over! I know it might seem abrupt to some, but in my mind this story was always meant to be about Bella and Edward finding each other and beginning a life together.**

**There may be one or two outtakes in the future but I have nothing planned as of yet. Thank you so much for reading my little story and investing your time in my characters, I hope you were happy with how it ended. Thank you to everyone who favourited, followed or reviewed and please take this opportunity to tell me what you thought for the last time!**


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